


the name of the game

by deadbrave



Series: the adventures of dallas dixon & matt meir [1]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, canonical character death is for the most part ignored, for the most part believed to be historically accurate, some events are tweaked to meet real life details instead of show details, there are minor timeline issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 43,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27351463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadbrave/pseuds/deadbrave
Summary: Dallas turned from the doorway, wiping her brow, and started off in the direction of actually doing her job and not being buried six feet deep in drama when she felt the cool metal of a blade pressed to her throat and a hoarse voice murmuring German in her ear. That certainly was not Liebgott. Without a second thought, Dallas took hold of the man’s elbow with both hands and wrenched it away from her, pulling it far back enough to hear the bone snap and the resounding wail of pain.
Relationships: Bull Randleman/Original Female Character(s), Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs, Eugene Roe/Babe Heffron/Original Male Character(s), Eugene Roe/Original Male Character(s), Joseph Liebgott/Original Female Character(s), Joseph Toye/Original Female Character(s)
Series: the adventures of dallas dixon & matt meir [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997509
Kudos: 3





	1. Currahee Part One

**Author's Note:**

> that time we thotted it up in europe.  
> we are going to blatantly ignore the segregated, sexist, homophobic, and transphobic nature of the military of the time period while respecting the history because we, a bisexual woman of color and a gay trans man want to vibe with our stinky war boys.
> 
> accompanying playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0SnZcqipYaWYq491K7j9RX?si=Golp6_rkRiS3i6Mc5TcZYA

“You can’t listen to him,” Matthew could hear Dallas speaking, but couldn’t parse her words out from the bark of Sobel ringing in his eardrums. “He don’t know shit. He’s just tryin’ to wear you down so you quit.”  


“I know,” Matt replied, wiping his eyes with the heel of his palm. “I know he is. I just hate that it’s working.” He hadn’t ever exactly hidden the fact that he was trans from anyone, but the way that Sobel decided it was proper and cool to attack him solely on that and not his height, his absolutely stupid laugh, or anything as inconsequential as he did the other folk in training was more than a little painful. “We’re shipping out soon. I have to get used to the idea of working with him since he’s going to be our commanding officer, but I swear he has it out for me.”  


“You know it’s just ‘cause he has a teeny tiny itty bitty shrimp dick.” Dallas supplied unhelpfully, with an amused grin. Matthew smacked her in the arm with his pillow. “Don’t make me think about that nasty man’s dick. As if I wanted to lose any more of my appetite.”  


“How can you have any left when all the food in Mess is seasoned by the whitest folk this side of the Mississippi?” Dallas bemoaned, stretching out beside Matthew on the twin mattress, hands interlocked and resting over her head. “I’m sure shoe leather has more flavor than anythin’ they serve.”  


“You’re right,” Matt laughed heartily, the last of his tears drying as he rolled over onto his back, shoulder pressed against Dallas’ companionably. “Just wait until we’re out on the line. Someone dared Web to try a bit of K-rations, swear he coughed so hard his lung came out. We might die being forced to eat that shit.”  


“I’m sure we’ll get used to it. We’ll have to, otherwise, we can always resort to cannibalism. Two birds with one stone. I’m sure that Sobel doesn’t taste altogether too delicious, but at least we’d get another CO.” Matthew arched his brow and looked to Dallas incredulously. “I know you don’t eat meat but I feel as though human flesh doesn’t count.”  


“It does. It so does.”  


“Whatever, then more for me and the boys,” Dallas acquiesced with a soft sigh, sitting up. “Now, c’mon. Speaking of mess, we have to go eat something before the night run. Even if it does taste how Sobel’s face looks.” With an amused chuckle, Matthew scrubbed at his face one more time, to make sure there was absolutely no weakness to be found before he joined Dallas in the cool evening air.  


It wasn’t long before they were joined by another person on their way to Mess, a quiet and steady presence that made Matthew duck his head and downcast his gaze. Eugene Roe was a quiet soul and happened to be one of the kindest people Matthew had ever met; it was truly problematic for him. Dallas found it all too amusing, especially given just how easily she had befriended the sweet Cajun. “Hey, Gene.” Dallas greeted simply, tone soft, and sweet as spun sugar. Matt could only glare at her, cheeks tinted a delicate and rosy pink.  


“Tex. Cupid.” Matt flushed further at the nickname, highly embarrassed at the fact that it even existed. Dallas’ grin was absolutely malicious, and Matthew elbowed her as hard as his soft self could manage. “Sobel was a new breed of evil today, yeah?” Roe glanced ever so casually at Matt, brows furrowed with concern. “Ya doin’ alright, Meir?”  


Matthew could only stutter, which made the expression of concern on Eugene’s face deepen, forcing Dallas to reply for her friend. “He’s feelin’ better, still a little shocked to silence, I ‘pose. I swear, I would deck that man straight in the face if I could. He’s got no shame.”  
Matthew let out a grateful little sigh, thankful that the attention was no longer on him. “I’m not the most violent person in the world, but he brings it out in me. If he drops his guard for one second when we’re on the line, I’m sure someone will throw a grenade in his direction. By accident, of course.” It was the most that he’d ever said in front of Eugene, he knew some part of Dallas had to be proud of him. Even if it was sarcastic.  


The trio arrived at the mess hall, booted feet hitting the wooden floorboards as they passed through the doorway. A few people looked up at their entry, which made sense because they were all a little late (though not late enough to miss the food, thankfully, no matter how shitty it might be), but most of them dropped their gaze back to the floor. Aside from some particular folk, one of which Matthew made his way over to.  


“Hey, Toye,” Matt leaned his elbows against the table Joe was seated at, batting his eyelashes at the other man. He heard Guarnere snort in between inhaling bites of his meal but chose to ignore the obnoxious man. Toye grunted in greeting, though it wasn’t filled with ill intent, this was just how he behaved. “Did you hear that the medics are going to pull a prank on Sobel? They need another person to stand guard and I told ‘em that’d totally be something you’d be down for. You game?” It wasn’t a lie, exactly, as it was necessary, but it was a ploy to get Joe to spend more time with Dallas. He saw how they looked at one another.  


“I can do that. Just grab me whenever it’s going down.” Toye replied, nodding in affirmation as he glanced over to Dallas, who was in line with Roe, helpfully grabbing food for the both of them. “Sure thing. Thanks, Toye!” Matthew had to repress a shout of victory, managing to contain it to a little grin as he returned to Dallas and Roe’s sides. “You’ve got a date with Toye. You’re welcome.”  


“I know it’s not an actual date, but I will humbly accept his help with Sobel’s surgery.” Dallas cast a glance over to Toye, who was still openly staring at her, before looking back at her friend. “He’s staring.”  


“He does that,” Matthew replied with a quirked brow. “It’s how he expresses his affections. Love languages, and whatever. Staring is one.” Matt had had a crush on Toye for some time, but it had long passed since he saw just how intense the stare could be. Intensity like that...only Dallas could handle that sort of thing. Plus, he was kind of scary. “I think you should say something to him. I’m not sure he can read subtle clues.”  


“Subtle?” Dallas was aghast. “When have I ever once been subtle?”  


“Subtle for him! You know he isn’t the most intellectually stimulating person. He’s not brain dead like Cobb, but he may need a very obvious shove. Even Guarnere’s read between the lines of my words at this point, and I’m not sure Joe has gotten it.”  


“Well, do you have any suggestions, Gene?” Dallas segued, arching a brow rather mischievously as she looked over to her friend. “French is the language of love, is it not? If anyone has any tips, it’d have to be you.” She looked from Roe’s dark and somewhat thoughtful gaze and Matty’s flushed and irritated features. He’d never wanted to hit Dallas more than he wanted to right now, and justly so. She knew what she was doing, as always.  


“Le seul vrai langage au monde est un baiser.” Eugene stated simply, in his usual deep and soothing tone. If Matthew were not already blushing furiously, he would be now, though both he and Dallas’ unknowing expression forced the cajun to explain what was spoken in a language only he understood. “It means ‘the only true language in the world is a kiss’. Maman always told me that if someone didn’t get hints, the easiest thing ta do is to kiss ‘em.”  


“So I should kiss him? Simple enough.” Dallas’ boldness was both enviable and a shortcoming, at least when it came to how often she stood up to her commanding officers, which was very frowned upon in the shitty, toxically masculine arrangement of the United States military. Matty was actually shocked that Sobel hadn’t tried to court-martial her as he had to Winters when he wasn’t even slightly insubordinate. He was probably scared of her. Matt understood that.  


“Simple enough? I swear you have more moxy than all the guys here combined,” Matthew sighed as he led the trio over to their usual table, Dallas squeezing in between Muck and Penkala while Matt sat next to Malarkey, boxed in by Roe. The thought made him sweat but he forced himself to pay attention to whatever ridiculous conversation the Disaster Trio featuring George Luz was having.  


“I’m just saying, I don’t think anyone would notice if I were to pee in Sobel’s coffee. I’m not sure that man is even a human, let alone that he has taste buds. I say we take a shot.” Muck stated, loudly and unabashed, as he shoved a mouthful of...whatever lumpy meat was on their plate into his gaping maw.  


“You’re insane. He notices little flaws like he’s paid by the dollar on them like he wouldn’t notice his coffee tastes like piss. If you want to do that, I won’t stop you, but that’s definitely stupid. I’ll send your dog tags home to your mom when you’re shot for treason.” Malarkey spoke with his fork pointed threateningly in Muck’s direction.  


“Listen, what’s done in the foxhole stays in the foxhole. If I were bold enough, I could choke him out if I wanted to. It’s a waiting game, I tell ya.”  


“I’ll do it. Don’t have to ask me twice.” Dallas inserted herself into the conversation, and Matthew couldn’t hide his huff behind the bland slice of wonderbread offered with their meal.  


“You’ll be a hero, Doll. No one would ever think it was you. Well, except for how often you threaten to rip his balls off and feed them to him.” Luz grinned, sending a wink in Matt’s direction. He didn’t know what it meant, but it made him blush, as seemingly everything else did.  


“Luzzy bear, someone’s gotta stand up to him. If it isn’t me, who else?” Dallas did have a point. Her fearlessness would serve her well overseas, that was for certain. “Anyway, y’all hear about the shit we’re pulling when the medics have a medical knowledge test?”  


“Dallas and a few other of tha rowdier medics have decided to put Sobel under actual anesthesia and make him believe that they removed an organ or two. Harmless, I ‘pose. Hopefully, he won’t wake up halfway through.” Roe supplied.  


“When is this and why were we not invited?” Penkala questioned, Muck and Malarkey, nodding in obvious agreement.  


“Tomorrow. Why, you want in?”  


“Nowhere else we’d rather be.”


	2. Currahee Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> who doesn't love a good sobel related prank?

“How’s it goin’, Dal?” Roe asked as he peered over her shoulder, looming as much as the slight and friendly man could. He had no concerns about her intricate finger work--even though neither of them was trained in surgery, stitches were still something that they could be challenged to do in the field if the situation was dire and there was no aid station in sight. Sobel was still completely knocked out, thanks to the borderline dangerous dose Muck and Penkala had given him, and though Roe was nervous about all of this, getting caught the highest of concerns, he had full faith in Dallas.  


“Just fine, Roe. Thanks for askin’,” Dallas replied, tone heavy with sarcasm. “The sutures are good, the bleedin’ has stopped, and Sobel’s still out. Just a coupla minutes, I promise.” Though Dallas was focused on one task, it didn’t mean she couldn’t look into another. The young woman’s meddling knew no bounds. “So. That piece of advice you gave yesterday. Have you ever actually used it yourself?”  
Roe’s brows furrowed and he shook his head before he realized that Dallas was face deep in their commanding officer’s abdomen and wouldn’t be able to see any physical reply. “Nah. No one’s caught my eye before. Ya know me, I’m not a people person.”  


“You seem to get along plenty well with Matty. I know you mean the world to him.” If only Eugene could see the shit-eating grin on Dallas’ face, he would know just how intentional all of this had been. There wasn’t any time either member of the Panic Pair wasn’t plotting something, ominous or not. Usually, the action wasn’t based on ill intent, but sometimes one had to throw a curveball in there. Just for shits and giggles.  
Roe’s skin was so pale that even the ever so faint blush was visible to Matthew and Toye, who had peered around the doorway to stare at Dallas’ important efforts. 

“Why’s Roe blushing?” Toye questioned, an undertone of jealousy in his voice. This both amused and concerned Matt, who went back to leaning his head against the wood paneling of the building, fingers tugging on his dog tags. The concern was all for himself, though.  


“You know, if you like Dallas, you should tell her, Joe.” Matt began to rhythmically tap against the cool metal wrapped around his neck. “She’s beautiful and smart, and there’s plenty of guys around here I’m sure would fall at her feet for a chance to lay claim to her heart. Don’t worry about Roe, though. I’m not sure she’s his type.” Listen, he wasn’t about to out someone who’d confided in him and his friend in secret, but he’d hoped it would cool Toye’s roll enough that he wouldn’t want to bust in the room and sock him just for looking at Dallas. It seemed to work, at least enough.  


“Tryin’ to work up my courage, she’s intimidating, ya know? The way she takes no shit from the officers, risking getting kicked out or worse...you don’t meet many gals like that. People in general, I ‘pose.” That was true, at the least. As stated before, it could be a very enviable, and apparently, a desirable trait. “What should I say?” Matty couldn’t refuse Toye when he had those big brown puppy eyes trained on him, not that he would either way. It was exhausting watching the two dance around one another through boot, almost as exhausting it was doing his dancing.  


“Just say it as simple as you can. Straight forward. No need to garnish your words, or embellish shit, just be out with it and real with it. That’s something she’d appreciate. Dallas likes you, Joe. I promise no matter what you do, it’ll be good enough.” Toye’s expression relaxed as he took another look in the doorway, eyes meeting Dallas’ for but a moment.  


“I don’t think his feelin’s are that sort of way. Matt barely speaks to me.” Roe’s features returned to their normal pinched expression as he leaned down to examine Dallas’ handiwork, fingertips brushing along the line of stitches. “Looks good, clean. He’ll certainly think we removed something. How will this not get us court-martialed?”  


“‘Cause he won’t know who did it. Can’t exactly kick us all out, can he? Especially seeing as we’re in war--they need all the help they can get.” Dallas’ cocky smirk did nothing to convince Roe in the slightest, but as his hands were metaphorically clean, it wasn’t something he would debate. “Anyway, you must be blind if you think that that boy doesn’t like you. I ain’t going to try and convince you of anything, but get your shit together. You never know when we’re going to die out there. Could be any moment, wouldn’t want any regrets, now would we?” Dallas cleaned the surgical tools before putting them away, leading the way out the door and Sobel on the operating table as though it was nothing.  


“Done already?” Matthew asked a small, amused smile sent in his friend’s direction. “Still out cold?” Matt got on his toes to look over Roe’s taller shoulder, stifling a laugh at just how stupid Sobel looked knocked out. He couldn’t believe the ridiculous man could look any more ridiculous!  


“No chance he’ll know what went down. Let’s not allow him to catch us in the act, though.”  
A week later and though Sobel was pissed off, he was no longer their commanding officer, so it didn’t matter two shakes whether he wanted to pursue an investigation, he wouldn’t be able to. No one could prove what had happened or who had done it, and those involved were mum on the matter. Sucks to be Sobel.  


Geared up and ready to jump, Matt could hardly keep his breathing regulated. Not only was he carrying the regulation gear, but he was laden with the extra weight of a machine gun (part of it, at least) that he was sure he’d lose in the jump if he didn’t lose himself. Dallas wasn’t doing much better, though, for the most part, the aid station equipment would be shipped in instead of dropped in with the troops. It was too valuable to lose with any failed jumpers. At least, that’s what Dallas had read between the lines. “This shit has to weigh triple what I do. Who’s idea was this?”  


“I’d say General Taylor, but you know that man has his head so far up his ass that he doesn’t even know his name.” Dallas fiddled with the strap of her knife, oddly uncomfortable having a weapon. She’d had the training, of course, but she’d been a medic for a reason, aside from the fact that women weren’t allowed in combat. “We better actually jump today. I’m not putting this equipment on again just to have to take it off.”  


“Nixon seemed to think it cleared up enough. At least that’s what he said when I asked him. He might’ve been joking, I can’t tell.” Matt sighed as they each took a seat on the hot pavement next to one another, last in line to get onto the plane. Dick Winters himself stood in front of the line of men (and Dallas), expression as pensive and thoughtful as ever, Roe standing behind him, reaching for something in his bag.  


“Doc Roe will be handing out air sickness pills. Take one now and another one when we’re in the air.” Roe began walking between the waiting lines, handing out little packets to everyone. When Matt’s hand brushed Eugene’s, his cheeks heated, though thankfully was covered by smears of oil and dirt so it wasn’t as visible. 

“Listen up.” The small chatter that had taken up was silenced once more at Winters’ voice. “Good luck. God bless you.” With that and Roe’s very warm presence behind Matthew’s back, the men began loading up into the plane, Winters taking everyone’s hand and helping them up. Dallas and Matt could only stare in awe up at Winters’ statuesque and inspiring figure before they got in line to get up. It was held back a bit by the fact that Toye and Malarkey were struggling to shove Luz and his heavy radio equipment into the plane.  


Eventually, everyone was boarded, Dallas crammed in between Liebgott and Matt, who was on the end, with Roe and Winters seated directly across from them. Matt couldn’t even look up, the idea of it so anxiety-provoking, on top of the fact that he was already so anxious that he felt as though he was going to puke out the terrible excuse for food that the Mess had provided earlier for dinner.  


Dallas, however, wasn’t having the same issues that Matt was. She even smiled at Roe, to try and ease the worry etched into his expression (it worked, a little) and spent an amount of time admiring Winters’ lovely features, at least, as long as one might be able to before it was considered creepy.  


The ride was long, long enough that Matt had begun to grip the side of the bench with white-knuckled fingers as his gaze peered out into the dark and ominous opening of the plane, wind whistling almost violently into the cabin. At this point, Winters was standing near the edge himself, seemingly not fearful of the cold night air, nor the idea of flinging himself into enemy territory precariously hanging from a billowing cloth. Rest assured that everyone was glad to be making the jump with him instead of Sobel, who had been shaking in the knees at the prospect of even jumping in the test run.  


Then began the peppering of artillery fire into the plane, ripping apart the metal that encased the soldiers, glass shattering above some of their heads. Winters directed them to stand, hook up, and check one another’s equipment (truly just an excuse to grab ass). There was yelling in the cockpit, and before too long the bright red light beside the door changed to green, and Winters shouted “Go, go, go!” before throwing himself from the plane. Matthew wasn’t breathing now, hyperventilating until Roe lay a hand on his and squeezed. “You’ll be alright. Promise.” He threw himself after Winters and now it was Matt’s turn. He took a few deep gulps of air before sending himself flying into the cool night air. The sky was alight with the glow of war; spotlights aimed into the air to aid the artillery in shooting down planes, the almost iridescent glow of the tracer rounds flying through the air, narrowly missing the paratroopers’ dangling feet. It was all too terrifying, and Matt could only do his best to focus on the ground and where he was going to land.  


Even Dallas was having trouble with just how scary it was to have artillery shells whizzing past your dangling feet, though she found comfort in the knowledge that at least she would land somewhat close to their CO and her best friend, and even if she was in danger because she wouldn’t have any weapons, they would keep her as safe as they could before they reached the assembly area. It was a matter of minutes, though it felt like hours when Dallas’ feet touched the ground. Though she wanted to shout for Matt, she could only listen intently for the sound of feet and the clicker that she had held in one of her own hands. There was splashing and Dallas was primed to run before she heard the little yelp accompanied by Matt landing face-first into the dirt as he tripped through the brush. “Thank God I’m not a German, otherwise I’d have made you swiss cheese, Matty.”  


“Shut up, Dal. Let’s just find Winters and get the hell out of here.”  


“Yes, Sir.”


	3. Day of Days Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> baby boy's first kiss :*

Studying sand tables could only help so much because so far Matt and Dallas were pretty damn lost in Normandy. Matt had been especially meticulous out of fear of being by himself with no clue where to go, yet somehow, even with their two heads melded together to figure out where they were and what direction they had to go in to get to their drop zone, and from there their ultimate positional goal, they were having trouble.  


“We just need to find Winters. You said you saw him land near you, right?” Dallas questioned, tucking a stray strand of hair into her jump helmet, fingers anxiously tapping against the cool metal of the dollar store clicker.  


“Yeah, he and Roe were only a couple feet away. Unless they somehow got caught by Germans.” Matt’s stomach rolled at the thought, and he cursed himself. “Speak of the devil, get into the underbrush.” He directed, attempting to be as quiet as possible as he ushered himself and Dallas into the thick foliage, finger resting on the trigger of his rifle as a handful of German soldiers stormed past, shouting in celebration, so it seemed by their tone, in a language neither of them knew a lick of. Truly inconvenient that neither had gone to a fancy rich white school like Webster had and learned a multitude of languages. Eventually, the loud stomps of the soldiers had entirely passed and Matt and Dallas crawled from their hiding spot.  


It was only a few more minutes of wandering in the general direction that they believed they should be heading in (and really, who could tell when it was entirely dark and they were inside a dense forest) when they heard the telltale clicks of an Allied clicker and were forced to click in reply lest they be shot in response. “Flash?”  


“Thunder!” Dallas replied, quicker than Matt, who’s fear thick brain supplied, ‘Bang.’ which would certainly get the duo killed. Out of the shadows four figures emerged, Ronald Speirs at the head, rifle aimed directly at Matt’s chest, almost as though he had been about to shoot him for not speaking the correct response, or replying in general. Although Speirs scared most of the men of Easy Company, he was not someone who scared either Dallas or Matthew, Dallas because she feared nothing, and Matt just because there was something about the Dog Company commanding officer that soothed all of his daddy issues. However, it was slightly fear-inducing to have a rifle pointed at your chest, and Matt was glad that he hadn’t followed through with firing.  


“Dixon, Meir. You two are quite far from your drop zone.” Speirs spoke, tone even, unafraid, and unabashed as he moved the barrel of his weapon to point in the direction of the trees at large. “That’s okay. We’ll get you to your company. Fall in.” Without another look, he moved to point and left the three men to mingle with the new arrivals.  


“Speirs almost shot you two.” Luz’s grin was nearly evil as he took in Dallas and Matt, gaze lingering on the latter for some reason that Matt still did not understand or could explain. “Good thing he seems in the mood for adopting ducklings right now.”  


“More like you three are ducklings,” Bull replied, obviously trying to keep his tone quieter than Luz, who had the loudest mouth this side of the entire globe. “Martin and I are situational. We ain’t helpless like you lot.” It was a joke, and it certainly made Matt comfortable enough to let out a small laugh.  


“We’re just glad we finally found someone. Matty and I were about to give up and let the Germans just have at us.” Not likely, or the truest, but amusing enough that the usually stoic Martin cracked a smile and nudged Bull softly. Who knew what the fuck that meant? Dallas looked to Matt and quirked an eyebrow in question, but Matt could only shrug, unsure himself as to what was going on. Listen, cis men were a mystery, especially when it was just shy of one in the morning and they were exhausted to the point of near-collapse just from carrying the hefty pile of shit that they’d jumped with.  


Speirs whistled in a sound akin to some sort of bird that only Bull could name and, because the other three crouched, so did Dallas and Matt, though they were quite confused until the sound of gunfire echoed through the trees. It was Speirs and his Thompson, which mowed through a group of German shoulders entering the clearing in thirty seconds flat. Once Speirs was certain that none of the bodies on the ground were going to get up anytime soon, he whistled again and they stood, following Speirs’ confident path.  


“Were you two in Speirs’ plane? Did you jump with him?” Matt curiously asked, adjusting the heavy machine gun part that rested between his shoulders, a small expression of discomfort pursing his lips.  


“Not quite, peanut. Bull was but I was in a different plane entirely. Luz told me he was with you two in Winters’ plane. How’d y’all lose him?” Martin questioned, giving Bull the same look as he had moments before. Now Dallas was truly curious, though Matt was honestly just distracted with the question. How did they lose Winters? He and Roe had to have been only feet from them, but even though they waited a couple of minutes, listening for footsteps, they didn’t locate either of the men.  


“Now that’s a question you’ll have to ask someone with a better sense of direction. We waited for a bit, listening to see if there were any footsteps to be heard but couldn’t catch any. They were probably faster in locating the necessary direction to go in than us.” Honestly, the jump had made Matt so anxious that he didn’t even know his name right now.  


Eventually, the group made their way to the assigned meeting place, Speirs at the head, confidently approaching Winters and Compton after dropping his little ducklings with the rest of Easy Company that sat on the side of the road adjacent to the rotting corpses of horses. Matt followed Dallas as she asked around about and made her way to the Aid Station, not quite ready to separate from his best friend for the first time in two years. Sure, the machine gun part was heavy on his back and he wanted to park his ass down for as long as he could manage before moving out, but shit was his skin getting itchy just thinking about leaving Dallas to her own devices without a weapon and being unable to protect her.  


They entered the makeshift Aid Station, which was the basement of a gorgeous little church that already smelled like death and was coated in the sticky splatters of blood. Dallas supposed that not all of them could be so lucky in their landing as the duo had been. “You know you have to go back soon, Matty. Don’t want you getting in trouble with Winters, or worse for that matter.” There were plenty of CO’s running amuck and God forbid one of their asses decided to target Matt and call him a coward or some shit for not wanting to leave his friend. “I’ll be alright. You know me. I got my shit handled, Matty.”  


The two made eye contact, and though Matt knew that Dallas was right, he had to go back, it was hard to bring himself to leave her with the company of near strangers and the dying. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him, but he nodded and turned to leave, taking her hand in his own for a moment, dirt and greased covered as it was. “Stay safe, okay? I’ll check on you later.” After a moment of lingering eye contact, Matt dropped Dallas’ hand and took a few steps forward before his path was blocked.  


In front of Matt stood a very dirt coated Roe, grease paint partially smudged and scrubbed from his pale skin, his cheeks blooming a soft pink beneath the dark stains. “Oh, thank God you’re okay, Gene! We were worried when we couldn’t find you.” Matt let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, glad to see that Roe was unharmed, though he couldn’t explain why that made his stomach flip and his heart tighten in his chest. Roe’s palm landed on Matt’s cheek and he certainly couldn’t explain now just how comforting the warm and welcome touch was when his nerves were making his hands twitch.  


“You need ta be careful. Come back to me, Cupid.” Roe was so close now that his breath ghosted across Matt’s lips, as tender as his words and touch. Matt’s heart beat against his ribs almost painfully as Roe bridged the distance between them and pressed his lips against Matt’s, years of yearning and care and want finally boiling over between them and into their embrace. Matt’s hands fell to rest on Roe’s chest, and more than anything, he wished he had the time to drag him in close and properly respond to such an expression of affection, but, alas, he had to get back to the line and receive his orders, so he just clutched onto Roe as tightly as he could at that moment.  


When they finally pulled apart, Matt couldn’t catch his breath fast enough, and his cheeks caught on fire as he heard Dallas cheer “Finally!” from behind him, forcing embarrassment to mingle in with the pure joy that he felt in this moment. The exclamation, however, sent Roe back into action. “Come back ta me.” The medic repeated before scurrying off further into the basement, while Matt could only glance at Dallas with a look of exasperation and head out to rejoin his company.  


Matt found the rest of the guys grouped around Winters as he explained their next move, and Toye gave him a pat on the back and a soft murmur in greeting as he tried to wipe the kiss from his mind and focus on the moment at hand. There were multiple 88’s lined up and primed to aim at the Omaha and Utah beaches and it was their job to take them out so that troops could land and help take Normandy. They were split into different assigned groups, Matt part of the group with Winters and Toye that were to take the guns themselves instead of being backup.  


Matt left the rest of his machine gun with Liebgott, who had the stand (lucky that he had the lightest part of the gun, huh?) before he headed out, bumping shoulders with Toye and giving him a little grin of encouragement. “We’re finally getting the action that you so desperately wanted. Aren’t you excited?”  


“Definitely. I can’t wait to get my hands on those damn Krauts. Pay them back for all the guys they’ve already killed.” Though Toye was a big softie at heart, there was still a part of him that was murderous and scared the piss out of Matt. This, Matt believed, would serve him well out here. They were about to find out the truth in that.


	4. Day of Days Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes nix's gotta be a cockblock, and that's okay. he's' vibing.

Matthew was glad for the fact that training had the Toccoa men crawling through mud and pig guts now that he had to crawl through the thick brush of Normandy, doing everything he could to not fuck up enough to get shot right in the fucking face by a Kraut rifle. Once he was close enough to Winters that he was comfortable crouching instead of crawling, Matt was grabbed by Lipton and tugged at the elbow as he ran toward a tree. It was tall and obvious and very sparse, but if Lipton needed help for the lookout and to take out some Kraut’s, Matty’s sharpshooting ass was on the damn case. 

Hefting himself up branch by branch, careful to make sure his fingers weren’t at any point beneath Lipton’s boots, soon he was sat precariously atop a branch adjacent to the Sergeant. Matt pulled his rifle forward and aimed it in front of him, gaze falling to Lipton as he awaited instruction. “Cupid, pick ‘em off while I take recon. We gotta keep them distracted from the boys on the ground. Got it?” Matt nodded and started to shoot at any German stupid enough to pop their head up or attempt to shoot any of the other guys, his aim good and true. 

Matthew had never been a particularly violent person, and unlike Shifty he had never been hunting and didn’t get proficient with a gun because of that. When Matt was younger, before he had come out, his older brother wanted him to be able to protect himself from ne'er do wells, sure that his brother wasn’t the most average kid around, especially seeing as he did everything he could to mimic him. So, he’d taken him out back on their small Massachusetts farm and taught him everything he knew about shooting a rifle. It wasn’t easy, and the kickback often slammed into Matt’s chin, but eventually, his hands had stopped shaking and had grown confident in their hold on the rifle. Matty missed Jonathon more and more every day this war went on but knew that if anyone could survive it would be the man who taught Matty everything he knew. 

Return fire peppered the men in the trees, but thankfully, their aim was nowhere near as good as Matty’s and, after Lipton got the intel that he needed and Matt had killed enough of the soldiers for his liking, the duo descended the tree in question and followed Winters and the rest of the men on the assault on the 88’s that they so desperately needed to take out so that the beach could be stormed as scheduled. In theory, this could be a smooth maneuver if everything went as it was supposed to. However, things rarely went to plan, even with Dick Winters of all people involved. 

Matthew nearly tripped as he followed the rest of the boys into the trenches, stumbling into poor Popeye Wynn as he fell face-first into the earth, cursing under his breath, and apologizing over and over again for fucking up. No matter how much Winters replied that it was okay, it wasn’t his fault, Popeye was a broken record. “It’s okay, Popeye, it’s not your fault some Kraut shot you in the ass. Dallas will take good care of you back at the Aid Station.” Matty pulled out his first aid kit and tore a sulfa pack open before sprinkling it all over Wynn’s poor wounded ass. Winters shouting a warning of ‘Grenade!’ over his shoulder and without thinking, Matt shoved Toye forward on top of Popeye and covered both of them with his small form, doing as best he could to take the brunt of the blow. Luckily, the three of them hadn’t exploded, and with a soft sigh, Matt checked over Toye and the rest of Wynn. 

Once Popeye was reasonably set, Toye and Matt shoved him out the side of the trench before continuing. Ducking and weaving through the trenches, Matt was hot on Toye’s heels as they followed Winters, taking out any German soldiers that dared to face them down. Toye took out a Kraut with a hit of the brass knuckles to the face while Matt forced the other into the dirt by the ass, hitting him in the skull with the butt of his rifle. Winters and Hall took out the 88 with TNT before they moved onto the next gun. Compton and two other men launched grenades at it, though Compton’s grenade fell short and fell into the trench beside Matt and Toye. Once again, Matt shoved Toye forward and blocked him with his body, willing to sacrifice himself for his friends at any point for any reason, Roe’s wish of him being safe be damned. “Jesus Christ, fuckin’ twice!” Toye was shaking, and Matt could only pat his shoulder as comfortingly as able and help him up again. “Lucky I’m here to keep your ass safe, huh, Toye?” 

“Shut up and get moving, Matty.” 

Meanwhile, at the Aid Station, Dallas’ brows were furrowed in focus as she stitched up the wound of a man who had fallen stomach first through a fence post during his descent from the heavens. The man was knocked out, thankfully, so he couldn’t squirm and Dallas could be as careful and slow as she needed to be. Biting into her bottom lip, she finished the stitch expertly and sat back, wiping her bloody hands on her apron. She lifted her head as a familiar voice carried into the shadows of the basement and could only grin as she saw Roe stride past, obviously avoiding eye contact with her. “What, now that you’ve kissed my best friend, ya don’t wanna talk to me, Gene?” 

Eugene’s pale cheeks heated beneath her knowing gaze and he actually tripped over a stretcher lying on the floor, usually so graceful that Dallas could only hide her laugh behind her hand, solely because it was probably rude to laugh in a place where so many people were dying. “Ah. I didn’t know ya saw that.” Even though he had noticed Dallas when he had sprinted past her to get to work as soon as he could. 

“Interesting. ‘Cause we made eye contact once you two pulled apart. I thought it was pretty obvious.” Dallas was a little shit, as she always was, and though she was grilling his ass it was surely out of love and not out of ill intent. 

Roe approached Dallas, probably hoping to lower the volume of the conversation. He was a fairly private person, especially with his feelings, so Dallas wasn’t concerned that it was because he didn’t want it to be known that he liked Matt, that he was trying to hide him, just that he didn’t want his private things public. Even though he had kissed him in front of everyone at the aid station, which wasn’t very private in Dallas’ opinion. “Alright, so you saw. But I don’t want this passed around like gossip. Ya know how I feel about Matt, Dal. This is very serious.” 

“Oh, incredibly serious that you want to drag my best friend into the back room and have your filthy way with him. I understand completely, Roe. My lips are sealed.” Dallas’ shit-eating grin would tell anyone just how much she was enjoying embarrassing Roe, and his glare, which would normally scare any sane person, did not affect Dallas. “Alright, alright. Just don’t take it too slow. I happen to know another handsome disaster of a man has his eye on him.” 

Roe’s brows furrowed, but before he could question as to who Dallas was talking about, Toye burst into the basement with a groaning Popeye in his arms. “Popeye got shot in the ass. We tried to get him back but apparently, he got stopped halfway here. It’s okay, Wynn, we’ve got you, man.” 

Dallas and Roe were quick to move to Popeye’s side, helping him into a bed just a few feet away from the door. They rolled him over onto his stomach and Dallas carefully inspected Popeye’s ass. “Who cleaned him up on his way here? It’s immaculate.” 

“Matty. The boy got that healing touch. He rolled between me and a grenade a few times out there. Crazy, I tell ya.” Dallas and Roe both met Toye’s gaze with a matching pair of frowns. Of fucking course, the dumbass boy was out here putting himself between others and danger. Even though Roe had warned him to be careful. 

“Yeah, that sounds like Matty alright. Love that dumbass to death.” Dallas sighed as she sprinkled more sulfa onto Popeye’s ass cheek while Roe pulled the bullet from his inflamed flesh to a chorus of groans. “You’ll be fine, Wynn. Just relax. Can’t leave a bullet in you, now can we?” Dallas’ soothing tone forced Popeye to relax and soon enough, the bullet was removed from the wound, the wound cleaned fully and bandaged and Popeye was knocked out with morphine. Roe looked between Toye, who was openly staring at Dallas, and the woman herself before making a swift exit, in excuse to wash his hands-free of blood, but more than likely to go find Matthew and give him a strict talking to about what coming back to him meant. Not in many pieces, that was for sure. 

Dallas ran a hand through Popeye’s thinning hair with a soft smile before she finally looked up at Toye, who’s gaze was still intent as ever. “What? Do I got somethin’ on my face?” Possibly blood, but as Matt had noticed before, it seemed as though staring was Toye’s love language for some weird, though entirely too endearing reason. 

“Nah. You just amaze me.” Toye stated, his words simple but evoking enough imagery of the emotion it entailed. “I just. You’re incredible. You’re smart, you’re brave, you’re more ballsy than half the guys here, and I don’t understand how you do it. Or how the rest of the boys aren’t crawling all over you just tryin’ to get a date. It’s a series of events I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand.” 

Dallas was the one to blush, for once in her entire life, not Matthew. She was used to men chasing after her, lusting after her specifically, but that was as waxy poetic as she had ever imagined could come from Joe Toye’s mouth. He wasn’t a man of many words, so the spilling of so many nearly had her quivering. “I hear we’re kissing people around here who we should’ve kissed years ago.” Dallas joked, taking a careful few steps toward Toye, whose eyes stayed nailed on her features. 

“I may not be as soft as Roe, but I agree that it’s about time.” Ah. So the word of the kiss had spread. Boy, was Roe in for a nice discovery when all the boys were back later. Both of Toye’s rather large palms wrapped around the sides of Dallas’ neck, and he slowly, giving her ample time to pull away, leaned in to press their lips together. Though they were in the dank and rotten basement of a church, fireworks exploded behind Dallas’ eyelids and she couldn’t help but slide closer to the man, wrapping her arms around his neck to get him in as close as possible. 

Nixon strode down the steps of the basement, in search of Roe, as he needed help with a wounded man only to find the sight of Toye and Dallas kissing. He shook his head with a little grin and put his hands on his hips, arching his delicately plucked eyebrow. “Toye. Let go of the medic, please. There are men to be tended to. You can kiss after, I assure you.” 

“Yes, Sir.” Toye pulled away with a little grin, which was matched on Dallas’ kiss swollen lips. 


	5. Carentan Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rip to carwood lipton's nuts.

“So, you kissed Toye and I kissed Roe? Suppose some shit has years in the making.” Matt rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling particularly filthy now that he was covered in grease paint, dirt, and blood. He had never felt so dirty in all of his life. The only saving grace was that his lips were tingling from Roe’s kiss. Matt wanted another kiss, and perhaps more privately. Or what one could call privacy while at war. 

“Yeah, and I heard you nearly got yourself killed out there. I understand you’re a soldier and whatevah, but perhaps avoid taking grenades for people. Even if it’s people I am fond of. Roe seemed pissed.” Dallas couldn’t be too mad, this was entirely in her friend’s nature, but it wouldn’t be friendship if she didn’t tease the living hell out of him. 

“I knew he would be, I’ve been avoiding him because of it.” Even though all Matthew wanted to do was run into Roe’s arms, to hold him and kiss him, thankful that both of them had lived through the day. The war was far from over but even surviving this long was a miracle considering all of them had volunteered to throw themselves out of a perfectly good airplane.

“Well, I wish you good luck. Please take care of them dumbass boys out there as best you can. Know that they probably won’t survive without you, and I don’t want to see their asses in here.” Dallas didn’t enjoy being at war, but she had grown to care for all the men she had gotten to know in the time it took for them to go through training and Bootcamp, so she’d rather not seem them die or have to stick her hands inside them. 

“Yes, ma’am. Don’t you worry.” Matthew saluted his friend with a coy little grin, running backward out of the basement and back out into the fray to receive his orders. 

They were to take Carentan. If the invasion was to continue, the Allies needed to take Carentan so the beachheads could be unified. The small French town was bursting at the seams with Fallschirmjager, and though that was the logical opposite to the Airborne, it wasn’t any less scary to face them down. Many rumors were floating through the lines about the brutality of these men, rivaling the rumors of their own Lieutenant Ronald Speirs. On the approach to Carentan, the boys were a little nervous given it all. 

Two lines of men sat on either side of the road into Carentan, Matthew squeezed in beside Liebgott and staring up at Winters, awaiting orders. Winters motioned the first group of men forward, Welsh, Luz, and a handful of others charging at full speed down the road and behind cover. Welsh and Luz were the only two to make it, and Liebgott swore under his breath in German. “And they want us to take this shit? It’s about to be a real Turkey shoot. Nice knowing you, Meir.” 

Matt rolled his eyes, though he soon was standing as Winters ordered the men forward. They had to get in there, one way or another, their objective was forward and it was better to move as one and overwhelm than to sit here and be picked off. It also wouldn’t help to let Luz and Welsh get slaughtered by themselves up there. “C’mon, Lieb. Don’t let the Krauts get the best of you.” Matthew tugged on Liebgott’s elbow before securing both of his hands around his rifle, racing toward the town in a crowd of men, hoping that he was a small enough target to be ignored. He didn’t want Roe or Dallas to have to be kneeling beside his dead body; the guilt would be overwhelming and may kill him by itself alone. 

As soon as Matt was close to cover, he dived behind the building, moving closer to Sergeant Lipton as a means to keep himself oriented. There was no other non commissioned officer he trusted more than Lip, aside from Toye. They moved from cover to cover, dodging the bullets that whizzed past them, shooting any Germans unlucky enough to pop their heads just right out from where they were hiding. “Liebgott and Tipper, search the buildings!” Sergeant Taylor directed, and Matthew and a few other men watched the two go into each space, one by one, kicking in the door, storming the house, and killing any Germans that they saw inside. Only a few shots rang out, at least that Matthew noticed as he continued to peer around his cover and shoot the opposition. 

Suddenly, there was the sound of artillery zooming past Matthew’s head and into the building that Tipper had just run into, glass shattering upon impact, smoke rising from the smoldering bricks. “Tip!” Matt shouted, swinging his rifle over his shoulder as he ran forward, mouth gaping as he saw the other man stumble out of the doorway, bloodied and broken. Liebgott took the few steps forward that were necessary as he cradled Tipper to his chest. “You’ll be alright, Tip.” Matthew had never seen this gentle side of Liebgott, and it warmed his heart as he crouched beside him, too, deaf to the shout for a medic. Matthew took Tipper’s hand and squeezed it in his own, trying to exude all the comfort he could as they waited for the arrival of a medic--they didn’t have to wait too long until Roe was gently pushing Matthew aside and inspecting Tipper’s wounds. Matthew was no longer needed. 

Gaze following shouts from his commanding officer, Matthew watched as Lipton waved men off the streets and behind cover, remaining vulnerable himself. “They have us zeroed! Spread-out, get behind cover!” That was all it took for the Germans to target him and send him flying against a brick fence as though he weighed nothing. Mathew stepped past Tip, dashing over to Lipton, knowing that Roe would be too busy stabilizing him to be able to help their Sergeant. He lay against the stone, panting, face splattered with blood, eyes wide and fearful as they stared down at his thigh. 

Matthew, crouched beside Lipton now, inspected him carefully. There was an open gash on his cheek, but what was more concerning was the blood pooling at the front of his trousers. Matt swallowed hard as his cheeks heated, reaching down to tear open the fabric. He let out a sigh of relief when he’d noticed that it was just a massive wound on his thigh. “Everything’s still here, Lip.” Lipton instantly relaxed and Matt settled and began to clean his wounds as best he could while they waited for Roe. 

After the battle, drenched in sweat, palms covered in the blood from Lipton’s wounds, cracking and drying in all the worst crevices in Matt’s skin, he approached the battle aid station, hoping to check in on his friend and maybe catch a glance of his crush. Lipton was easy enough to find, and Matthew crouched beside him, chest warming fondly at the small smile the Sergeant gave him. “Feeling better, Lip?” 

“Yeah, Matty, thank you. You took good care of me.” Lipton’s expression was almost blinding, it was so bright, and Matt couldn’t help but pat his shoulder. Lipton was just the sort of person you would do anything for, he was just a bright shining light for everyone around him. Matt was grateful that this was the man that was in charge of him. They all had lucked out in that Sobel was transferred out, he couldn’t imagine being stuck with him now. 

“Just hang tough, Sergeant. You’ll be back with us soon. You  _ and _ your nuts.” Matthew couldn’t help but tease, grinning at the blush that dusted Lipton’s cheeks. “See ya later, Lip.” He tipped his helmet at the commanding officer before he headed further into the little shop front, searching for a certain face among the pained masses. It didn’t take altogether too long, but Roe was busy with a patient, so Matt leaned against a wall and waited, not wanting to ruin whatever treatment the man was doing. He may understand basic medicine and first aid, but he was no genius with that shit. After a couple of minutes, Roe finished and sent the man to the back to rest, then, turned to give Matt an incredulous look. 

“Our first day in Normandy, ya take two grenades to the body and now ya dive in front of the fire, at tha threat of artillery, to help Lipton. You’re a piece of work, Cupid. I thought I told ya ta stay safe.” Roe plucked up a rag next to him and wiped his hands to try and clean some of the blood off of them. 

“Technically, you said to come back to you, and I think this qualifies. I even came back in one piece and everything. You have no reason to complain.” Matthew was toeing the line of being fresh, though he was just happy to be able to speak to Roe like he hadn’t been able to in Boot, really, terrified of the prospect. It seems war had at least given him a certain amount of gumption. 

Roe’s brows rose to his forehead, incredulous at Matthew’s line of argument. “You’re a menace, ya know that? I’m just glad that ya didn’t die running around like some sorta hero. C’mere.” Matt hadn’t been truly held since his Mama had cradled him to her breast before he’d left to go to train for the Airborne. It had been two years since then, and being held to Roe’s chest was infinitely more comforting and somehow also less so. Possibly because the fact that they were pressed so close together made his heart hammer in his chest. 

“I don’t mean to worry you or Dal. I just wanna do what’s right, I can’t just leave ‘em out there to die.” Matthew had always had a rather strict moral code, even when his father was lacking in that department. It was something that his mother had drilled into him, to be better, even when the person hurting you was playing as dirty as they could. “Besides, I’m just fine. I’ve got an alright head attached to my shoulders, I ain’t like Guarnere out here catching shit I shouldn’t be.” He was called Gonorrhea for a reason. 

That made Roe audibly laugh, and the sound went straight to Matthew’s head, filling his heart with soft thoughts and warm intentions. Matt pulled away far enough in the hold that he could look up at Eugene, a small, pleased smile on his lips. “You’re something, ya know that?” 

“Yeah. I’ve been told that a few times. Too much to handle, unusual. It’s sorta my thing.” Even by his father once he had come out. Luckily, Matthew had a mother and brother who loved him no matter what, so the mocking and bullying received from all sides didn’t affect him in the long run. Matt was made with stronger stock. 

“Nah, nothin’ like tha. You’re good, brave. You’re what everyone should aspire to be.” Well, color Matt pleased and thoroughly complimented, now. 

“Well, I don’t know nothin’ about that, Mister Roe.” 


	6. Carentan Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey, at least we know where roe's scissors went now!

While the majority of Easy was out in Carentan battling their thematic parallels, Dallas was helping pack up shit from the aid station in the case that the company took Carentan successfully. She had acquired one of the battle medic bags and was stuffing as much as she could of what would be needed inside: bandages, syrettes of morphine, plasma, anything she knew wouldn’t be supplied for a bit of time. The men here were waiting to be taken to a hospital away from the fighting, so there wasn’t much she could do for them now, not unless they brought in someone new. 

Dallas glanced up from her task as she heard the quiet footfalls of boots make their way down the cellar steps, brows furrowing when she realized who it was. She took to her feet and saluted Lieutenant Speirs. “What are you doing here, Sir? Looking for someone?” 

“Not exactly. Regiment has intel that Easy Company took Carentan. They’ll need medics at the battle aid station. I’m to take a few in a jeep to arrive quickly and help where needed.” He gave Dallas a once over, though it was certainly not of a sexual nature, more so like he was sizing her up. Deciding what she was worth. “Sergeant Lipton is injured. Pick a few other medics and grab supplies.” 

Ah, yes. It had been a rumor in the ranks for quite some time now. Despite Speirs being a part of Dog Company, he always seemed to be hovering around and circling Easy. A few people believed it was because he wanted to be in charge instead of, at the time, Sobel, and now Winters, but Dallas knew better. She and Matt saw the way that Speirs looked at Lipton when he thought no one was watching--it wasn’t subtle when you knew what to look for, after all. Right. So, Speirs had decided that she was good enough to help Lip? That was a compliment she would gladly accept. 

By the time the group arrived at the battle aid station, most of the medics were already there and working on the injured men, Roe included. His face was contorted in concentration as he worked on a man whose leg had been blown right off. A shiver ran down Dallas’ spine and she shook herself free of her horror, approaching her friend and crouching beside him. “Speirs rushed us over here like a chicken with its head cut off. He was so concerned about Lip, but he seems fine.” 

Lipton was conked out, and, to be fair, good morphine could do that to ya. However, aside from a gash on his face and a wound on his thigh, Dallas couldn’t see anything visibly wrong with the Sergeant. Speirs hovered near him, in the shadows, dark eyes glimmering as he stood guard. Roe looked up from his work to spare Speirs a glance and give Dallas a knowing smile. “Matthew cleaned him up, he’s just fine. Almost took off his  _ bitte _ , but he’ll survive.” 

“Why am I not surprised that Matt was somehow involved? I suppose I should be happy that that means he’s taking part in combat less, but.” Dallas shook her head and put her hands on her hips. Roe let out a rare chuckle, and Dallas couldn’t help but be proud of herself for causing this to happen in her usually stoic friend. “Anyway, I’m here now, so what can I help with?” 

“Tip probably needs a bit of a freshenin’ up. He was the worst to come in, trauma wise. Aside from this fella here.” Roe nodded toward where Tipper was curled up in a corner, staring at a wall but gaze very far away. Dallas headed toward him, crouching beside him to inspect the wounded man. It was a gnarly scene--half his face was ripped up, his foot had a chunk missing, and even with the one syrette of morphine, he was still shaking as though he was in pain but not registering it. 

Luckily, as always, Roe had cleaned his wounds up and bandaged him up real nice, so Dallas just cleaned him up again, sprinkling copious amounts of sulfa into his wounds, inspecting them for further damage perhaps caused by movement or self-inflicted. Noting none, she rebandaged him carefully. “Hey, Tip. Does it still hurt?” Tip’s gaze met hers for a moment before returning to the wall. Dallas sighed and brushed his bloodied locks from his face. If he wasn’t in enough pain to say anything, she shouldn’t give him another syrette. Just in case it would do more harm than good, after all, Tip was tall but thin--he didn’t weigh altogether too much. 

“Tip!” A voice shouting for her patient, especially one so high pitched and obnoxious, alerted Dallas and forced her out of her thoughts. “Chaotic twig man, you need to give Tipper a bit of time alone.” Dallas stood up and put her palms on Liebgott’s chest, or as high as she could get at her short stature, shoving him backward. Tipper hadn’t even looked up at the sound of his name this time, so it was clear he needed a moment to ruminate. Wounds were serious things, both physically as well as emotionally when considering the way that trauma affected people. She had learned much in training, but the brief bit about the psychology involving injuries was something that had sat with her. 

“What do ya mean, Tex? I just wanna make sure he’s okay. He got hit pretty bad.” Liebgott tried to shove past her, but Dallas stood stiff and rebuffed his movements. “I’m serious, Lieb. He won’t even answer my basic questions, I don’t want ya bothering him with your obnoxious nonsense.” 

“Obnoxious nonsense? Dal, I”m just tryin’ to check on my friend, here. Why are you givin’ me a hard time?” Liebgott may be intimidating to others, but not to the stubborn medic. She started backing Liebgott out of the aid station, grabbing Roe’s scissors out of his pocket to a soft protest. She pointed the sharp object at Lieb and he backed up quicker, his palms raised in self-defense as she forced him out of the building. “Seriously, are ya going to stab me? Seems against the medic code or whatever.” 

“I will if you don’t leave Tipper alone. He’s in shock. Why can’t you just listen to shit the first time someone says it, why does it always gotta be a fight with you?” Dallas’ tiny ass could be very threatening when she had a weapon in her hands. Maybe it was a good thing she was forced to be a medic and not a soldier. 

“Well, you coulda just said it like that instead of making me leave while pointing sharp shit at me and callin’ me obnoxious. Next time just tell me to mind my business, ya don’t gotta go this far.” Liebgott looked a little scared, which was amusing enough for Dallas to drop the weapon and slide it into her apron pocket. 

“You weren’t listenin’. Ya must have selective hearing, Joseph.” Dallas crossed her arms and leaned against the brick wall of the building, allowing herself a moment of rest. “I’m sure after a few days of rest and a bit of healin’, Tipper will be okay. But for now, since he’s unresponsive and I don’t want you to trigger nothin’ in him, it’s best if ya stay away. We’ll send him to the closest hospital, give him some time away from the front, and I’m sure he’ll come back healed up and better.” If Dallas did smoke, she was sure she’d be doing so now. Even a moment around Liebgott could be exhausting, the man was so loud-mouthed and obnoxious with no consequence. 

Liebgott grinned, like the mischievous little shit that he was and leaned forward to press the top of his dirt coated finger against the tip of Dallas’ nose. Dallas pulled away and scrunched her nose, lips pulling back as she sneered at Liebgott. “What the fuck, Lieb? Don’t touch me with your dirty ass fingers.” She swatted at his hand, resisting the urge to full-on deck him in the face. No one touched her without her permission. 

“Sorry, Doll. It’s hard to resist that cute button nose.” Liebgott cooed like he was speaking to a baby, and this time, Dallas did hit him--if only to shove at his chest and get him to give her some space. He could be such a twat when he wanted to be, and Dallas was about to take up the damn scissors again. 

“It won’t be so cute when I stab you in the perfect place in your eye to tear it out of your fuckin’ skull, Lieb.” Knowing Dallas, the threat was entirely too genuine. She had practically been raised by her older brother, and there was a reason he was a Ranger and not just another part of the Army. He was as elite as she was being in the airborne. Ya just didn’t mess with the Dixon’s especially when you were a thin twig of a man who got off on irritating every single person around you. It didn’t matter how cute Liebgott might be, Dallas would hit anyone in the face if they deserved it. She had done so to Sobel and she would do so to an annoying machine gunner. 

Liebgott chuckled and backed away again with his hands up, feigning innocence and nonchalance so well that the urge to punch him rose even hotter within her. God damnit, Liebgott was so frustrating! Obnoxious, cocky...he was hot shit and he knew it. Finally, Liebgott turned fully and walked away, whistling to himself very off-tune and with a song Dallas didn’t know. She stayed outside for a couple of minutes, taking deep breaths in and out in an attempt to calm herself before heading back inside, letting out a sigh and plopping beside Roe. Speirs remained in the hidden corner, staring intently at Lipton, though he seemed to be smoking now. Dallas scrunched her nose. 

“Interesting that ya have so many boys chasing you. You’d think tha in the middle of a war, they’d have better things to think about, but what Liebgott was doing is exactly his manner of flirting. It’s a little embarrassing.” Roe was stone-faced aside from a small quirk in his upper lip, which was the only way that Dallas knew that he was amused. 

“Says you, Mister I kissed Matt in front of the entire Aid Station.” Dallas teased, amused herself when Roe’s pale cheeks had a hint of a blush. “Anyway, I can’t say that I mind. It can get to a girl’s head to have so many peak guys vying for your interest.” At least, she didn’t mind as long as it didn’t get in the way of her work. After all, it would be nice to find a partner out here with all these good folk, but she had enlisted to save lives. 

“I think it’s about half of Easy Company, now, it must be. Now, I hope it’s not just ‘cause you’re one of three women who’ve come along with our regiment. Oh, being gay sure is looking up now that we’re surrounded by men.” It was the closest Roe ever got to a joke and Dallas couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah, but we’re both losing because men are truly disgusting messes.” 

“You’ve got me there.” 


	7. Replacements Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whoever thought betting when drunk was a good idea was clearly drunk.

Dallas sat in the farthest corner of the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey as she watched her friend, surrounded at the dartboard, amused at just how cunning Matt could be when he really tried. In just a matter of minutes, she was sure, there’d be a nice fat stack of chocolate bars and cigarette packs sitting beside Matty’s abandoned drink on the table. Even though he was drunk (which didn’t take a lot for the small man, like, three sips into one drink had him flushed bright red and laughing at the top of his lungs), his impeccable aim did not leave him and he liked to lure in the more gullible boys by offering to play a game of darts, up the bet, and swindle them of his desired reward. The medic was content to sit back and watch the heads roll, at least for now. 

Matt wasn’t normally the center of attention or was okay with it, but when he was drunk it was his favorite place to be, all eyes on him, demanding respect, awe, or affection. A great exhilarated grin rested on his lips as he spoke loudly and gestured with his hands, fingers precariously holding the tail end of a dart. “Nah, it’s just a bet. C’mon, Babe, if you’re so sure of your skills, it shouldn’t be an issue, now should it?” 

Matt had taken quite a liking to one of the new replacements, Babe Heffron, as had most of Easy given Bill’s quick adoption of the other Philly resident. It was something big city boys were prone to, which made Matt’s heart ache just a little in the knowledge that he would never have the same camaraderie--it was unlikely anyone was from his small Massachusetts town. He’d never wanted to be from Boston before now, but a part of him did just in the belief that it would garner more lasting friendships than the ones with his friends who lived halfway or fully across the country. He didn’t know what he wanted to do after the war, but he was certain that he would move closer to Dallas if she didn’t decide to do the same for him. It was hard imagining a life without her now, especially when he’d never had too many close friends back home. 

Babe was an easy person to like. Though he was devoutly Catholic, he wasn’t the type to be preachy about it, like Roe, and he was all easy laughter, quick smiles, and brightness. He was like a breath of fresh air for a company that had been long-suffering, though they had no idea where the war would take them after this, the darkness that they would encounter ahead of them. He was also one of now three gingers in the company, which was sure to be the most of any company in the army, not that Matt was going to complain-- he had always been envious of red hair, had even tried to dye his hair with similarly colored berries a few times only to amount to failure. Wavy dark hair he would be stuck with. 

Though Babe was taller than Matt by a great margin, he seemed intimidated by the other soldier, which only amused Dallas further from her seat at the back of the bar. Just as easily as she had men falling over her, so seemed Matty, even if he didn’t realize it, naive and innocent as ever. “C’mon, Babe. Just a pack and your chocolate. I’m sure you’ll beat me. My aim has never been that good.” Of course, Babe wouldn’t know Matt’s excellent skill with any weapon handed to him, though his much prefered rifle being the one he was best with. Luz hid a laugh behind a snort next to him, and Matt gave him a knowing little grin, like this was just a secret between the two of them and the rest of the bar wasn't watching, knowing exactly how this was going to go down. The other men had seen Matt in combat, and though he tended to rush to the aid of other men if they were injured, when he hunkered down and held down the fort with a weapon, he was lethal as all hell. Most of them were glad that Matt was on their side and not of the Germans. 

“Alright, alright. Toye and I will bet two packs each and whatever chocolate bars we have in our packs. The same goes in reverse, Cupid. If I win, you have to give us that.” Babe was confident in his drunkenness, confident enough to bet Toye’s shit too, while Toye was too drunk to be able to refute. He could barely see straight, but he was cheering the lanky ginger bastard on. 

“C’mon, Heffron. You’ve got this!” Toye slammed his palm into the back of Babe’s shoulder, possibly too hard, causing the younger man to yelp, but since they were drunk and there was a bet on, Babe focused on the task at hand. Admittedly, he was a pretty good shot; even drunk, he nearly got it in the bullseye, only encouraging Toye to whoop and holler like a drunken school boy. “Thatta boy, Heff.” Babe lit up and grinned down at Matt like the cat who’d gotten the cream. 

“Go on then, Meir. Show me whatcha got.” That was enough for Matt, honestly, it was flirtatious enough to both make him blush and get him right to the action. He took his spot in front of the dartboard and closed one eye, tongue poking out of the corner of his lips as he aimed and followed through, zeroing directly in the center of the bullseye. The bar erupted in cheers and Luz planted a fat smooch Matt’s cheek, grinning ear to ear. 

“You just won me so much money, Cupid, so thanks.” Toye and Babe looked so damn forlorn as Matt opened his palms to them, obviously requesting the confident bet that Babe had placed for the both of them. “Give Matty the shit he won fair and square, boys.” 

Babe and Toye grumbled as they dug through their pockets, pulling forth four packs of cigarettes and quite a few bars of chocolate. He didn’t know where they had gotten so much chocolate, but Matt didn’t care altogether too much about that fact. “Thanks, boys, it was nice playin’ with ya.” He blew them a kiss, so drunk that he had a good ol’ time stumbling back toward the table that Dallas had long since acquistered for the duo and dumping his bounty in front of his friend. “I gotcha some treats, Dal.” Matthew slurred, grinning, clearly pleased with himself as he handed her four bars of chocolate. It was the good shit, too, not some shitty ass chocolate made cheaply solely for the Army. 

“That you did, Matty. I’m proud of you. You really swindled the poor boy who was too blinded by his crush on you to do his best.” Matt’s brows furrowed in confusion, about to ask what she meant when an outburst near the dart board stole his attention. Cobb, the fucking cunt, was hastling a group of replacements, Babe’s friends. Matt stuffed his bounty into his pockets and stormed over, as angry and blistering as a five foot four drunk kitten of a man could be. “Cobb, leave ‘em alone. It’s not like you were in Normandy, either. Your ass didn’t even jump--my sweet replacements, please note and question as to why Cobb here has no stars above his jump wings next time.” Matt patted the back of one of the replacements then, set off out the door before Dallas could fight the crowd and get to him. 

Dallas leaned back in her seat with a small sigh, rolling her eyes as lovingly as physically possible. Bull let out an amused chuckle and slid into the seat adjacent from Dallas, stogie, as always, resting in the corner of his mouth. Idly, Dallas wondered if his lips would taste of tobacco, and how much she may enjoy kissing someone who tasted of tobacco. Unfortunately for her, and anyone else who didn’t smoke, the majority of people in the military did--it was gross, in her opinion, and she had to watch Matt pick up the habit midway through boot camp due to the anxiety that Sobel was causing him. 

Baby blue eyes met soft brown ones across the table and Dallas tried her best to hide a proud little grin. She had managed to get Sergeant Randleman’s attention, which was, as some claimed, oh so difficult so she was proud of herself. He didn’t say anything, but his gaze was fond and approving in a way that flooded Dallas’ chest with gentle warmth. It’s as though he was saying, ‘ _ i’ll keep you safe. I’ll protect you. _ ’ with his eyes. Bull reached across the table and wrapped his fingers around Dallas’ wrist, thick and warm and exuding comfort. Their eyes stayed interlocked, skin burning wherever Bull’s touched it, until Babe and Luz stumbled over, falling all over Bull like a couple of rambunctious children. 

“Heya, lovebirds. Either of you have some matches? I thought I’d be kind enough to loan Babe a cigarette since he lost his bettin’ stupid.” Luz grinned, tucking his chin into the meat of Bull’s shoulder. Bull looked amused as he offered the hooligans his lighter, holding it for them so their unsteady asses wouldn’t catch the whole bar on fire. “C’mon, Bull. Buck wants to play against you. Says he can beat you with one hand tied behind his back.” Bull gave Dallas a regretful expression before he stood and followed the devious duo back to the dartboard, leaving Dallas to stare longingly over at Toye until she could get his attention enough to lure him over to her table. 

Matthew stumbled along the cobblestone path in Aldbourne, heading back toward the lodgings for Easy Company. He wanted to find Roe--his sweet, intelligent Roe with his warm eyes and delicate smile. Yes, he had to find him, to give him the rest of the chocolate he had procured. Making his way through the entrance, Matthew giggled to himself, falling over beds and tripping through the halls as he searched for Roe’s room, which he knew well enough by now to find in the dark and blind drunk. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, Matthew fell through the doorway and onto the foot of Eugene’s bed, landing between his two outstretched legs. Matt could only grin up at Eugene and hold out his offering--four bars of chocolate, which Matty had noticed that Roe would eat whenever he was given a moment of peace. Late one night, he explained that when he was younger his mother claimed that chocolate cures all ailments, and though he knew that wasn’t true, the placebo of it always made him feel better during rough times in his life. It was a secret Matt kept safeguarded, and would continue to do so. 

“I gotcha chocolate, Gene. Babe and Toye bet I couldn’t beat Babe at darts, but I did. They had no idea how good my aim was.” He tugged a couple of the cigarette packs from his pocket, too, and handed them to his intended. Gift giving was one of Matt’s love languages, apparently. Roe stared down at Matt with an amused smile, could smell the hint of fruity mixers and dark alcohol on his breath, but Eugene didn’t mind. Especially if Matt being drunk just made him all the sweeter. 

“Thank ya kindly, good Sir. How sweet of you to think of me in your time of victory.” Eugene plucked the gifts from Matt’s hands and stuffed them underneath his pillow, taking Matt’s hand and using leverage to pull Matt further up his body, so his dark haired head could rest against his chest. “There we go. Comfortable now, Matthew?” 

Matt hummed and nuzzled against the warm fabric of Roe’s olive drab sweater, settling against him as though he were the most comfortable mattress in the world. There was nowhere else he’d rather be, warmed down to his very soul by the sound of Eugene’s beating heart. “I love you, Gene.” He murmured softly as his tired eyes closed, drifting off to sleep easier than he ever had in his entire life. 

Roe froze for a moment, shaken by the admittance that fell so easily from Matthew’s lips. He’d have to wake him up in the early morning hours to shuffle him back to his own lodging so as to not get in trouble with the higher ups, but for now, Roe wrapped an arm around Matt’s waist and held him closer to him as he entered dreamland. “I love you too, Matthew.” 


	8. Replacements Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> these are soft bull randleman hours ONLY.

The drop into Eindhoven had gone far smoother than the one in Normandy, which Easy Company was thoroughly grateful for. If everything went well, Operation Market Garden would be the driving force behind the war’s end and they could all be home by Christmas. That was everything that Matthew wanted, at least, if that meant Roe and Dallas could go home with him. It would be a wonder to celebrate any damn holiday away from the insufferable bullshit of the military. After helping Bull in righting some of his replacements who surely hadn’t had enough time to learn all the proper procedures of a jump, Matt followed the massive swarm of men through the field and into man made trenches on the side of a long dirt road. 

They needn’t wait long, however, as Peacock and Lipton waved the men up and across the road, further towards civilization, inching ever closer toward their intended target. It was a slow march forward through the fields and the crop turfed land until they came upon the town of Eindhoven. The tall brick buildings beckoned them, all was almost eerily silent until a window opened and an orange flag fell through to wave in the gentle breeze. 

As soon as they stepped into the town, it was a celebration. People crowded the streets, young and old alike, dancing and cheering and singing in a language Matt couldn’t quite understand. They grabbed soldiers and planted their mouths on whatever skin they could reach, dragged them in to take photographs, to break bread with them; the people of Eindhoven were elated and joyful that they were finally free of the watchful eye of the Nazis. Matthew turned in the crowd, a little overwhelmed, as always, by such a large group of people, attempting to find Dallas, the only person he trusted to lead him through such a massive wave of human beings.

Matt found her easily enough, her red curls standing out amongst the crowd, especially next to Roe’s skin which was so pale it was almost illuminating. He fought and shoved his way through the mass of squirming people to get to them, and it was a losing battle as he was tugged into the arms of a tall, lanky dutch man and kissed forcefully on the lips. Roe had been the only man he had kissed before now, and he had wanted to keep it that way, had this man’s too moist lips not been pressed against his own. He understood that the Dutch people were grateful, but this was too much. He shoved at the man’s chest, trying to get him off of him, but to no avail. Suddenly, there was a loud accented voice next to him and the dutch man was pulled from Matthew by a furious looking Babe. “Hey, the guy obviously didn’t want that, why dontcha back off, buddy.” 

Babe shoved at the man’s chest once more for good measure, to scare him off, most likely (which did, in fact, work), before he turned to Matt, brushing a gentle thumb across the curve of his cheekbone. “You okay, Cupid?” Matt’s cheeks took up a furious blush, and he nodded before scampering off in the direction of Dallas and Eugene. He didn’t know what to say--sure the fact that Babe might’ve liked him had dawned on him, but it was weird and uncomfortable to know that even a small part of himself liked the other man back when he and Roe had openly admitted their feelings to one another. Sure, Matt had been drunk, but that didn’t make the words matter any less than they had. He had been half in love with Roe from the first moment that he had met him, he was doomed to this life. And though he might feel something for Babe, it wouldn’t be fair to Roe, or their freshly blossoming relationship, to chase the emotion. 

“This is crazy, right?” Matthew asked the medic duo when he finally reached them, fighting to brush the blush from his cheeks with his fingers. “We’ve never been welcomed like this. It’s going to my head like we’ve won the war or somethin’.” He wrapped his arms around his chest, resisting the urge to beg Eugene to wrap his arms around him and hold him tightly, to squeeze him as close as he possibly can. 

“Yeah, I don’t know if I trust it. There could be snipers hiding, any number of things. Keep a lookout, you two. We’ve gotta keep movin’ forward. We’re supposed to get to the front.” Roe stated, brows furrowed and gaze as serious as it had been for in a long time. Dallas nodded and began to make her way forward, her fingers interlocked with Matt’s to help drag him through the crowd, though she was barely an inch taller than him, and as such, they got easily separated. Matt just turned around and latched himself onto Roe’s side, letting the taller man lead him through the crowd and hoping that would eventually lead to them reconnecting with Dallas. 

Dallas herself wound up inside a circle of dancing folk, and was dragged forward by a man who attempted to kiss her, but she punched him straight in the shoulder. He didn’t back off. Out of nowhere, Liebgott came a-swinging, slamming his fist into the guy’s cheek to get him away from the medic. “Hey, the lady said no. Fuck off.” Liebgott sneered at the random civilian, even though she hadn’t, in fact, verbally said no, but it should fucking be enough that she shoved him away and seemed disinterested. As always, fuck men, they’re disgusting. Dallas gave Liebgott a curt nod in thanks when the Dutch man left the circle to go sulk presumably before she continued on through the crowd, hoping that by now at least Roe and Matty would’ve made it outside of the celebration and to the front where they were needed. 

Once all the men had been gathered and snatched away from their own celebrations, they sat on tanks, riding out toward their destination on the backs of the slow moving vehicles. Matt and Roe were seated on the left side of one tank, Matt leaned forward so that his chin sat atop his hands that were wrapped around the barrel of the gun. He idly stared out at the fields ahead of them, humming to himself when he felt a warm palm splay across his spine. A shiver ran through him, and Matt didn’t need to look behind him to know Roe was the one touching him. God, he’d give anything to turn around and plant a good one right on his lips, but alas, they were out on the field and none of them were allowed distraction. 

Bits and pieces of the boy’s conversation drifted to Matt’s ears and he couldn’t hide his frown when Cobb ripped on Webster for talking about Van Gogh. “Hey, we can’t all be uneducated like you, Cobb. I think it’s nice we’re going to the place where Van Gogh was born. Hopefully, through and not to, but I think it’s nice. Just because you have a stick up your ass doesn’t mean the rest of us mind Web’s tidbits of information.” Matt grumbled, rubbing at his eyes with the bridge of his hands. Cobb was about to say some shit in reply, but Martin smacked him upside the back of his head with a warning. Matt could only grin, and felt his chest warm when he heard the low grumble of a laugh from behind him that showed just how amused Roe was by the interaction. 

The group of tanks passed a woman cradling her baby to her breast, and Matt couldn’t help but audibly sigh at the sight. She had her head shaved, as did her baby, which meant that they were seen by the Dutch Resistance as horizontal collaborators, even the baby. The display at the town’s square had not been lost on Matt and it had wounded him more than he’d like to admit. How were the men of the Resistence to be sure that these interactions hadn’t been rape, or something of equal ill will? Or even that it wasn't birthed from fear of being killed in retaliation of saying no? None of it sat well with Matt, which was why he was glad that Roe’s hand was still resting on his back, warm and safe and all the comfort that he needed as he watched one of the replacements give the woman an aid carton on their way down the road. 

Eventually, the group made their way into town, a CO scouting ahead very obviously on the road, standing by himself, stark in the middle of the path. Bull attempted to shout a warning, but the man was shot through the neck, a medic was called for, and the men scattered. From there, it went to chaos. 

Market Garden was supposed to be an easy mission for Easy, one that would succeed and bring the end of the war. That’s what Dallas was telling herself as she stood in the center of the chaos that was the aid station, her fingers dripping red with blood as the screams of injured men fell on deaf ears. It was suffering, it was pain, in its purest form, which had been bad enough when Roe had brought in her best friend, who wasn’t screaming, instead, Matt was shaking, a piece of shrapnel wedged firmly into his ass cheek. Roe had told her Matt was hit because a British tank had refused to shoot through a building to knock out a German tank that had been hidden in a haystack, and God, he was bleeding so bad that Dallas could scarcely breathe as she and Roe worked to stitch Matt back together, but eventually it was done and Matt was out cold and tucked into his cot. 

Then, after Bull was missing in action for hours, he stumbled into the aid station with a slowly oozing wound in his shoulder. Also shrapnel from a tank, apparently, that had been dug out with a knife and smothered in alcohol. Dallas cleaned it up the best she could, then bandaged it up and helped him lie back in the bed, giving him exactly one syrette of morphine to ease the pain he must be in with how he was twitching. Dallas sat on the edge of the cot, running blood soaked fingers through Bull’s thick, blonde curls. Though he was obviously and clearly in pain, he still offered her a small smile, reaching for her hand with the one of his own that was not attached to his injured shoulder. 

“Thank you kindly, Miss Dixon. I feel all sorts of better now.” Bull murmured in his deep and low tone, accent only more endearing when he was a bit loopy. Their fingers interlocked as their eyes met once again and a warm happiness bubbled up inside of the pit of her stomach. This was safety, this was...home, and it was the only place that she ever wanted to be. 

“Of course, Mister Randleman. Anything for one of our best soldiers.” Dallas replied, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his forehead. Soon after, because of the morphine, Bull drifted off, but their fingers remained interlocked until the next patient was carried into the aid station. 


	9. Crossroads Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> moose heyliger deserved better y'all

War was hell. One does not take this sentence lightly in all of its multiple meanings. And though this was the case, the brief lull in between battles and troop movements and training could be blissful. Well, not blissful, exactly, but close enough as one could get while they were however many miles away from home that they were. Matt lay with his head tucked into the palms of his hands, elbows extended as he reclined with his neck tipped back, gaze settled on the woodbeams of the roof of the barn. Easy was in Belgium, doing what they did best which just happened to be a rendition of ‘hurry up and wait’. Either they were in the heat of the action or sitting for days at a time and there was no in between for the Company. 

Matt was curled up beside Lipton, and though they were only touching from the knees to the hip, it was the most affection he’d had since he had been drunk and cuddled Roe in England. He missed his other half, of course, but even though they weren’t currently in battle, Roe, as a medic, and one of the best, at that, was constantly busy. At least Mama Lip was here to help; Matt curled up closer, rolling to his side so that he could settle against Carwood’s torso. Tab’s new pet, Trigger, lept up onto the hay loft beside the two men, licking happily at any skin he could reach. Matt chuckled in amusement while Lipton stroked the pup behind the ears. Their joy was interrupted by the bang of the barn door slamming against the siding and Liebgott’s high pitched voice piercing the air. 

Matt and Lipton immediately jumped from the hay loft, rushing forward to join the commotion, hoping to be the voices of reason in the midst of the panic. Alley was carried in by part of the group who went on patrol with Liebgott, who clutched at his bleeding neck. Matt heard more than saw Roe come in, so he knew that Alley was more than well cared for and inspected Liebgott’s wound as he snarled his countenance of the evening events. Matt pulled some sulfa from a pocket on his hip and sprinkled it on Lieb’s wound before he wrapped it far more carefully than the man himself did with gauze, inspecting his work with a squint before he allowed himself to rejoin the conversation. Lipton took a group of men out the door as Matt wiped bloody fingers against his OD’s and looked to Roe, who was pulling Alley onto a stretcher. Matthew moved quickly to help Eugene lift the stretcher and get the wounded man onto the jeep. Soon, they were off in silence, the wind whipping Matt’s overgrown hair around his head like tendrils of seaweed in the great deep. 

“Will Alley make it?” Matt asked, teeth digging into the meaty flesh on the inside of his cheek. There was a storm brewing in Eugene, and it wasn’t something that Matthew could pull him free of, not by himself anyway. He could, however, give him companionable moments where he could and more if the medic so wished. 

“I don’t rightly know. He might’ve lost too much blood.” Roe finally replied after a moment, as though he hadn’t registered what Matt had said at first. Matt allowed them to drift into silence, unsure of what steps he could take forward that would pull Roe from his thoughts. 

Nearly two weeks later and it was Roe’s birthday. Matt wasn’t sure that Roe had even remembered his birthday, but he had for two years now and he wasn’t going to just forget it. There wasn’t an easy way for one to get gifts while away at war in a land that they didn’t know, when their paycheck itself wasn’t too thick, but Matthew made due with a suggestion from Lipton. No matter how busy the day may be, Eugene of all people deserved to have just a moment, however brief, of goodness. It was a pocket watch, engraved with the prayer that Roe repeated as though his life depended on it. Matt had been tempted to get a picture of himself done to put inside, but felt like that was a bit much; it wasn’t like they were engaged or anything. It was a nice gift as it was, and Matthew hoped that it would make Eugene smile. 

The day was slow, thankfully, for the most part, aside from the fact that there was a night operation planned to rescue a bunch of British soldiers. Matt was free to roam their encampment in search of the elusive cajun. After asking around for a couple of minutes as to his location, Matt finally found him in his bunk, curled up asleep looking impossibly small and innocent as he slept. Matthew pocketed the gift he had in hand and slipped in beside his beloved, settling in close, resting his head on Roe’s firm chest, arms encircling his waist. He dozed off in Eugene’s arms for what seemed like forever, but was likely about an hour or so given that it was still light outside when Matt cracked his eyes open upon being woken up by warm fingers brushing through the thick of his hair. 

“ _ Bonjour, la belle au bois dormant. _ ” Matt could feel Eugene’s smile against his forehead and he shifted just slightly so he could lean up and press a lingering kiss to his love’s lips, thumb tracing along the smooth line of Roe’s cheekbone. 

“You know I don’t understand French, Genie, but I’ll forgive you since it’s your birthday and all.” Matthew felt Eugene freeze against him and couldn’t hide his amusement as he looked into that dark, honest gaze. “What, you thought I’d forget? Nah. You remembered mine. Wouldn’t be fair.” Matt reached down and tugged the timepiece free from his pocket and slid the cool metal into Roe’s hand, the medic’s eyes wide in wonderment and interest. “I know it isn’t much, but it’s kind of hard to find gifts out here. I thought of you the second I saw it.” 

It was almost like magic, watching Eugene read the etching on the cover of the watch, fingertips brushing over the words as though he coveted them (which, in a way, he did). His nimble fingers took only a second to pop the latch so that Roe could gaze upon the clock face, feeling the rhythmic ticking of time beneath his fingertips. Matt’s most important love language was gift giving. He loved to see the way that someone’s features lit up just at the prospect of receiving something from him. Even though his family hadn’t hadn’t ever really had sufficient means, Matt had always found some sort of way to give as unique and precious gifts as he could during holidays or birthdays and other celebrations. He’d bake, or make or find something in nature or use any money he could scrounge to make someone’s day just that much more special. To see the expression on Eugene’s face right now was just as thrilling, if not even more so. 

“Thank ya, Matty. That was really thoughtful.” Gene’s smile was impossibly bright as he tucked his new pocket watch into one of his many pockets and tangled his now free hand in Matthew’s hair, pulling him forward into a searing kiss that warmed Matt’s body all the way to the damn tips of his toes. “I love you, Matthew.” Roe murmured against kiss bruised lips, holding Matt’s face between his palms with the reverence of a Saint. 

“I love you too, Gene.” 

It was Halloween, which was, on a normal basis, Matthew’s favorite holiday. Back home, he would don a ridiculous costume, curl up on the couch and recite a scary book aloud to his brother. However, now that both of the Mier brothers were across the world, in separate locations, of course, that wasn’t on the table. Although it was nice to read a letter from Jonathon, it wasn’t the same as having his big brother there with him, and he wouldn’t have that for God knew how long, so it was what it was. Matt had actually let slip during one of his more drunken moments how much Halloween meant to him and how special it was every year and Eugene, of course, the sweetheart was, had snagged some sweets (not chocolate, since Matt hated it) from a Belgiun storefront for him and slipped it into his pack. He thought he was being sneaky, but Matt was meticulous about the organization of all things involving his uniform, so he’d found them quickly when he’d reached into his bag for ammo during range practice. 

Though it was a holiday (not a national one, to be fair), Matthew had spent the entire day in weapons practice, either with his M1 Garande, his sidearm or the machine gun with Liebgott, as well as PT and so much unnecessary shit so it sort of felt like he was back in Currahee, which was not something pleasant to be quite frank. Matt was also incredibly jealous of the fact that Dallas got to sit out on it because she was at the aid station, but whatever, he made his choice to be in the weapon's platoon and not be a part of medical and that was that. 

The evening found Matthew splayed out on one of the empty beds at the Aid Station like a starfish, face planted into the probably germier than he’d like pillow as he listened to Dallas rant about the Doctor that resided over the aid station. “I mean, he just thinks he can tell me what to do. Like I don’t know how to do my own job, like I need his help with every little thing. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean that I’m helpless. I wish I could shove the scalpel up his--” 

“Not talkin’ about me, I hope.” Roe interrupted as he entered the tent, already reaching for and nabbing supplies that were lying around in his general vicinity.

“No, of course not. I’m talkin’ about Lieutenant Potter. The man is really grinding my gears. His holier-than-thou shit is really past its prime and I’m ready to deck him the next time he tries to tell me what to do.” 

“I’d tell you to try and breathe through it, but I know you better than that.” Matt supplied, sitting up from his face-planted position so he could moon over at Roe like the gay bastard that he was. “Just try not to punch him and you’ll be fine. This isn’t Currahee, anymore. They can shoot you out here for being insubordinate. Just ask Speirs.” 

“I don’t think that actually happened, Matty, that’s just a rumor--” Dallas was interrupted once again by the shout of ‘Medic!’ through the flaps of the tent. Roe was out in an instant and Dallas and Matt were hot on his heels, curious as to what the fuck could be so urgent on such a quiet night. “What’s going on? What happened?” 

“A sentry shot Heylieger. He didn’t say the password so the sentry shot him. A replacement.” The runner stammered, seemingly anxious as they sped off in the ambulance toward the direction of the train tracks outside of town. 

“Lieutenant Heylieger? Christ, didn’t he just get promoted?” Matt exclaimed, grip tight on the metal of the vehicle as they drove over a particularly hard bump and jolted to a halt. Roe opened the back doors, already in action as he moved to take Moose into the ambulance. 

“I got him, Harry. You give him Morphine?” Roe asked Welsh as he pulled Moose partially into his arms, attempting to load him onto a stretcher. 

“Yes.” Welshy stammered, eyes wide in shock, hands shaking where they held onto the larger man. 

“How much?” 

“I can’t remember. Two, three syrettes maybe?” 

“Three syrettes, maybe? You tryin’ to kill him?” Roe, Welsh and Winters all worked together to place Moose as carefully as they could on the stretcher, though Matt could tell just how angry Roe was by his pursed lips and furrowed brows. That was, after all, a very irresponsible amount of morphine to give someone, even someone as big as Moose. “You don’t think it’s important to let me know how much medication the man has had, huh, ‘cause I do not see one syrette on the man’s jacket.” 

“Sorry, Doc.” Winters murmured as they slid Moose into the back of the ambulance, Dallas gathering plasma and sulfa for the wounds as Matt reached for bandages. 

“Sure is a good thing he’s a big man, maybe he’ll stand a chance.” Matt didn’t think he’d ever heard anyone speak to Captain Winters like this and honestly, it was a little terrifying. And kind of hot, but we’ll table that for later. 

“He was in a lot of pain, Doc, we didn’t know what to do.” That only pissed Eugene off more and Matt and Dallas busied themselves with fixing up Moose’s wounds to allow the medic to spout off at his commanding officers. 

“Yeah, well you oughta. You are officers, you are grown ups, you oughta know!” Roe fumed before climbing into the ambulance beside them, inspecting Matt’s work before gently pushing him aside so his more capable hands could work alongside Dallas. “Alright, let’s go, c’mon, move it!” 


	10. Crossroads Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> got a penny?

There were few luxuries when one was in the army, but one that could always be depended on was a film night. Most of the time they were war propaganda pumped out by Hollywood for the benefit of those at home to guilt them into aiding the war machine with bonds or by working in the many factories that made supplies, if they couldn’t convince to join up in the middle of a second world war. The other films offered to the soldiers were most often romance based, one with a dainty, wealthy woman wooed by some lucky 4F man. These pissed the men off the most, but they would take any entertainment they could get if shit was dry enough, so. 

This film was one of the second variety, and let’s just state now for the court that it was boring. Dallas inspected her nails where she sat beside Toye, brows raised high upon her forehead as she listened to the voice of the dainty, blonde actress vibrate through the crackly speakers. Matt sat beside Lip, equally as bored out of his gourd, eyes closed as he floated just far enough out of a dream state, head lolled onto the Sergeant's shoulder. Lipton didn’t seem to mind, at the least. Toye thought he was sly, sliding an arm around Dallas’ shoulder, a confident smirk curling the edges of his lips upwards. He was lucky he was cute and Dallas didn’t shove him off, was what was going on. The cocky little shit. Dallas settled against his side, more pleased by the move than she’d let on. 

The silence was ruined by the only thing it could be ruined by: George Luz being an obnoxious little shit wanting attention. “My name’s John Wayne. The costume department set me up with these great Navy whites. What do you think?” 

“Luz, shut up.” Toye turned with a clenched jaw to tell off his friend who was being more than his fair share of annoying right now. 

Lipton turned as well, speaking as evenly and quietly as he could so as to not wake up the sleeping Technician. “I’m trying to watch this.” 

“I’ve seen this movie thirteen times, okay.” Was Luz’s argument in reply, which didn’t get him anywhere. 

“Well, I haven’t, so shut up.” Seriously, Luz, you’re ruining the moment for poor Joe Toye and his less than slick moves. 

“Watch the movie, it’s fine.” Luz stated unhelpfully, gesturing toward the screen as if he wanted them to continue their watch of the film. Malarkey busted into the makeshift theater, shouting Muck’s name but was quickly sushed by the two NCOs in the front row. He settled down, at least better than Luz’s big mouth having ass. Winters entered the theater as well, though far more silently than anyone else had, finding a seat behind Buck. 

Luz smacked the back of Lipton’s shoulder, both irritating Lip and waking up Matt in one fell swoop, who startled and nearly fell out of his chair, if it weren’t for Lipton’s hand pulling him back into his seat. “Lip, favorite part.” He whispered in a hushed tone, though it wasn’t quiet enough in the stark silence of the room. Lipton turned and glared at Luz, pulling Matt back into his side to hopefully lull him back into some semblance of rest. 

“Got a penny? Got. A. Penny?” Toye rolled his eyes while Dallas had to hide her amused smile in his shoulder, doing her best not to burst out laughing at how easily annoyed the man got. Luz took an inhale of his cigarette, blowing it directly at the back of Matt’s head, causing him to be surrounded by smoke and to cough and wake further from his mild slumber. “Got. A. Penny?” Luz had adopted the most atrocious accent, though no one in the front row could quite identify which one he was trying to imitate, and he dragged out the n’s in the word penny like he got paid by the dollar on them. 

Finally, the annoying actress on screen repeated the line that Luz had been replicating in an accent so far from the one that he had been doing, and the soldier burst into manic laughter at something that wasn’t even a bit funny. Lipton turned again, quickly this time, jostling poor Matt fully out of his sleep so his bleary gaze was glaring behind him at Luz as well. That was when the stomp of boots filled the now rustling audio of the theater and Matt groaned knowing full well what this meant. No nap for him, he supposed. Bright lights harshly lit up the dark room and a chorus of bemoaning and caterwauling filled the air, though the Military Police were having none of that as they ordered for silence and stomped their way onto the stage. “Elements of the first and sixth SS Panzer Division have broken through the Ardennes Forest. Now, they’ve overrun the twenty eighth infantry and elements of the fourth. All officers report to respective HQ’s, all passes are cancelled.” With that, and another round of complaining following them, the MP’s made their way out the back of the theater, leaving the soldiers to gape and whine in their wake. So much for a well deserved rest. War never had a break, so why would the overworked Easy Company? 

They were packed into trucks like cattle without pageantry. Matthew was a little upset that he wasn’t in the same truck as Dallas because they did not know what lay ahead of them, but there was no way in hell he was about to argue with their newest Lieutenant, who was already nicknamed Foxhole Norman despite the fact that they hadn’t seen battle with him yet. They should’ve appreciated Moose while they had him, that was for sure. 

Dallas was pleased as ever, given that the truck she was crammed into contained Martin and Bull, though unfortunately, also Cobb who wouldn’t shut his gob about how cold he was. They were all cold, but no one aside from the Replacements were voicing it like he was. Dallas was curled up and had wormed her way into Bull’s lap, his big, strong arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her close to his warmer-than-average chest. He even had his jacket partially off so it could grace her shoulders; in all, it was a cute little moment, okay? Cobb just had to be an asshole and ruin it though, as he did all things. Fucking Cobb. 

“Oh, but little Princess here gets to be snug like a bug in a rug with the big fella all over her. How nice for you, Princess.” Cobb spit out, glaring at Dallas despite the fact that she hadn’t actually done anything to him personally. 

“Hey, shut the fuck up, Cobb. It’s getting old, the cold bit. And mind your business. What Dallas and Bull are doin’ ain’t got nothing to do with you. So zip it. Before I zip it for ya.” Cobb’s glare was no match for Martin’s, and the annoying man finally simmered down, his will to live greater than his want to whine. 

Meanwhile, in Matt’s truck, it was pandemonium. Whoever’s idea it was to put all the loud, obnoxious boys together was a fucking idiot, because Matt had just wanted to try and get some form of sleep while they were carted to their destination, but no, everyone had to be grilling the Replacement. Bill’s voice was giving Matt a headache, and he was two seconds away from punching him directly in that iconic jaw of his just to shut him up. 

Shifty seemed to be equally as exasperated across from him, blinking slow in his exhaustion, willing himself to sleep through the ruckus around them. Soon, the entire truck was hustling the poor replacement, Suerth, for cigarettes. Matthew sat between Babe and Roe, who appeared to be as annoyed at the volume. To be fair, if anyone needed sleep, it was Eugene. He never got enough, always too busy looking after everyone else to care for himself. It made Matt’s heart ache to know that he couldn’t do anything to shut the men up just for him. 

Babe greedily snatched a cigarette from Suerth, which lay unlit between his lips, hands shaking as his fingers curled abnormally against his palms. Matt didn’t say a word, just reached for his own lighter and helped light Babe’s cigarette, before snatching it from between his lips and taking a drag himself. Babe’s brows furrowed as he looked over, first at Matt, then the cigarette, then to Roe whose lips were now upturned in amusement. Babe blushed from both embarrassment and the unknown twinkle in Roe’s eyes, only appeased when Matt returned his cigarette to him, settling back against the uncomfortable tarp wrapping of the truck. Matt shifted in his seat so he could lay with his head on Eugene’s shoulder, closing his eyes and attempting to sleep through whatever stupid fucking argument the boys were having about socks, Muck’s informing tone lulling him. He would take whatever sleep he could get given that they weren’t sure what lay ahead other than disaster and a fully stacked German army that they were certainly not prepared to face off against. 


	11. Bastogne Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> depression is one hell of a drug y'all.

Matt had never been so cold in his entire life. That was saying something, given unlike most of his compatriots, he had grown up in a state with fierce winters that were hellishly frigid, and was poor enough to not be able to afford heating aside from the dying embers of a fireplace at night. However, Bastogne was different. It wasn’t just the chill of the cool air that never seemed to warm, even in the sunlight. It was the fact that they had to dig for hours to just make shitty, shallow foxholes that offered little coverage because the ground was so frozen their entrenching tools barely dug in, that they still had their summer uniforms because they hadn’t been given their winter ones before they’d left for the Ardennes. Nor were they given enough supplies, ammo or any other necessities for hunkering down in one position surrounded by the enemy and cut off from the rest of the military. 

Bastogne was, as simply as a person could say, Hell on Earth. As Paratroopers, they were taught how to deal with the worst of circumstances, but this was wearing thin even the most sane in the company. They were told to share foxholes to keep body temperature high and to lessen the chance of freezing to death, but Matthew was certain that sanity was also an aspect in it. At least, that is what he thought Dallas would tell him if she were here and not miles away in the city of Bastogne. That’s what hurt the most. Not the cold, not the loneliness, not the hunger and desperation gnawing at the back of his mind, no, Matthew missed his best friend and there was nothing more tortuous than not knowing how she was, if she was okay, and that he couldn’t bring a smile to her face right now when she might need it the most. God knows that Matt needed that. 

Now it was no surprise that no one in Easy Company was particularly happy. In fact, this was definitely the lowest point in all the war thus far, including the dangerous failure of Operation Market Garden. They didn’t even have Winters with them anymore. Now that he was Captain, he was in charge of the entire regiment and at HQ. He did his best to check on the men when he could, but he was Battalion’s now and there was nothing any of them could do about it, even Winters himself. Alas, they were stuck with Lieutenant Dike, who was the worst man Matt had ever met, possibly worse than Sobel in his inaction and his cowardice. Although Winters had duties at regiment, it was more often Dike himself who wandered out of the Easy Company trenches and to finer company, where there were sometimes even occasional fires and actual food that wasn’t frozen rations. 

It wasn’t all bad. Sergeant Lipton had overtaken most of Dike’s duties, along with Buck Compton, and he’d always been more caring toward the lot of them than they could rightly expect. He helped dig foxholes, made sure everyone had enough to eat, even if it was only the shitty rations offered; Lipton did the best he could given the circumstances, and thus, Matthew didn’t feel he really had a right to complain. 

That didn’t stop Matt from doing it anyway, though! There wasn’t anything to do out here when you weren’t on patrol or line watching duty, anyway, so complaining at least took up some time and moved his body a little. This time, poor, sweet Babe was the target that the complaints were directed toward, and though he was too cold to really care, he pretended to listen anyway, which was kind enough. 

“I mean, it’s bad enough that we’re never warm, that there’s never enough food and that we’re stuck with Foxhole Norman. There isn’t a moment of peace because the Germans keep shelling us at night or threatening us with tanks, and I haven’t seen Dallas in weeks or had a moment alone with Roe in God knows how long, it’s just…” Finally, Matthew realized that Babe wasn’t listening and was, in fact, staring down at his hands. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t bitch about it. We’re all suffering together, like we’re back with Sobel. Not that you met him, thankfully.” The technician shifted closer, resting his head on Babe’s shivering shoulder. “Hey, you okay? Normally I’m not the only one rambling. I feel kinda stupid…” 

“You ain’t stupid,” Babe spoke for the first time since Matt slid into his foxhole, gaze not lifting from his lap. “My hands just hurt. They get like this sometimes, especially when it’s cold and well, it’s Bastogne and all. Doesn’t get much colder than here, even in Philly.” Matt’s brows furrowed. Yeah, he’d noticed the furl of Babe’s fingers a few times but was polite enough to not say anything, especially when he was sure that some of the other guys would make a huge fuss about it and tease the poor man mercilessly. 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed it before. Do you know why they do that?” Matthew tore his gloves off so that he could reach for Babe’s fingers with his own. Indeed, they were curled in on themselves, shaking violently, and the moment Matt’s frigid skin met Babe’s, the ginger let out a yelp of pain. 

“No clue, they’ve been like this for years. Whenever it’s too cold, or I’m stressed, sometimes for no reason at all, they do this and it hurts like a son of a bitch. I’ve been lucky enough so far, but once we left for the Ardennes, I didn’t stand a chance. I haven’t told anyone before, not even my Ma.” One look into Babe’s eyes and Matthew knew he was telling the truth, which made him feel conflictingly both concerned and honored. Had he come to mean so much to Babe that he was spilling a close personal secret? Maybe it was just because he believed that Matt could help in some way. 

Matt could do this. He wasn’t a trained medic in the same sense, nor was he actually a doctor of any sort, but he had learned a lot of basics from Roe and from Dallas and even if he couldn’t find a cure, there had to be some sort of solution. He reached for Babe’s fingers, more carefully this time, and, one by one, wincing at any sounds of pain that fell from Babe’s lips, Matt wrenched the sore and stiff fingers upwards and away from the palms. Really, it wasn’t the worst work, but he hated just how in pain Babe seemed to be. Given that this was something that had haunted him for at least a couple of years, Matt couldn’t even imagine how much he’d suffered and gone through just because of this mysterious illness. More than anything, he wished he had a better solution than to physically tear the muscles in Babe’s hands free of their inflexible position. 

It took the better part of fifteen minutes with how slow and easy Matthew was trying to make this, but eventually, even though they were still surely in pain, they were straightened out and Babe gave Matt a grateful little smile. It wouldn’t be an easy task on his own, especially with both his hands out of the picture, so Matt was glad to be in service instead of ranting and bemoaning the life that all the soldiers now shared so Babe was plenty aware of the situation himself. Really, this was the perfect use of the technician’s time. “Thanks, Matty. Feels better already.” Though the strain in his voice told Matt differently, he didn’t question Babe, only gave him a sweet smile. 

“Least I can do, Babe. Here,” Matt took his gloves from his lap and started to slide them, one at a time, onto Babe’s shaking hands, hoping that if anything, they could keep away the cold long enough that the stiffening of his fingers would happen less. Yes, they were a gift from Roe, but Matt believed that his boyfriend would appreciate him trying to help out a friend in need, especially when lives could depend on Babe’s ability to use a weapon or not. 

“No, no, Matty, I don’t want your gloves, I can manage--” Babe tried to argue, voice high pitched in its defense, but one meaningful look from Matt silenced his arguments on the matter. After Babe’s fingers were tenderly encased in Matt’s gloves, he reached into his bag to tug out a bar of chocolate. Matt had stockpiled a few for Roe and for Dallas, whenever he saw her next, but the sadness and pain in Babe’s gaze wounded him more than he could handle, so he offered the bar to him. 

“A wise man once told me that chocolate can cure any sort of ailment, so eat this. Try and eat it slow so that you don’t make yourself sick, they’re very sweet.” Matt’s nose scrunched in displeasure at the mere thought of biting into the chocolate, but Babe’s face had lit up like the Eiffel Tower, like Matt was one of God’s own fucking angels gracing his presence. 

“Thanks. I don’t know how I can ever repay ya.” 

“Just think of it as payment for letting me rant at you, even if you weren’t listening.” Matt gave Babe a cheeky grin and squeezed one of his gloved hands. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better. I know it ain’t great having something chronic like that and I--” Matt was interrupted by the crunching of boots through the snow next to the foxhole and the tarp above them being pulled back. Roe. It was Roe. He stared at the two, curled up together, fingers interlocked, Matt’s gloves on Babe’s hands for a moment too long before he dropped the tarp and headed in the opposite direction. Matt was dumbstruck for a moment but then he stumbled out of the foxhole himself, chasing after Eugene’s retreating figure. “Hey! Gene! Genie, it’s not what it looks like. Babe’s fingers were frozen and I was just trying to help.” Good. Try to relieve the tension without revealing Babe’s secret, cause that would be shitty as all fuck, right? 

Roe paused in his march to the next foxhole, turning to glance at Matt, hands stuffed deep into his pockets in order to keep them as warm as he possibly could. He didn’t look angry or upset either, so now Matt was genuinely confused. If he wasn’t mad at him for the somewhat compromising position, or even loaning Babe the gloves that Roe had gotten him, why had he left like that? “I’m not angry with ya. I’m glad you’ve got company. I’ve gotta go check on Toye.” 

Matt stood frozen in his spot, unsure of how to proceed. What was going on, then? It seemed that Eugene had been avoiding him for days, only checking in during his twice a day rounds on everyone, or asking if he knew where someone was. Was that it? Was Roe no longer interested in him? “Did I do something, Gene?” He asked, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. “Is it me?” 

“Nah, Matty, there’s just a lot to do. I’ll see ya later, alright?” Roe’s dark eyes were lifeless, no matter the smile that they were paired with. Matt could only watch him retreat further into the trees, snowfall ever so slowly covering up the footprints that he left behind. What was one to do when the person they loved was losing the life behind their eyes, losing what made them them to the passage of time and the hardship of war? What was Matt supposed to do when the mere memory of what they shared was the only thing helping him hold on in this frozen hellscape? 


	12. Bastogne Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rip to that nazi who became a pincushion tho.

Every day was exactly the same. Dallas woke up to the moaning of injured people, splashed frigid water on her face and washed her hands, downed meager and stale rations, mended the wave of freshly wounded who were sent into the church, stuffed more rations down her gullet and forced herself to get some sleep. Repeat. Repeat again. Repeat twenty one times. It had nearly been a month that they’d been in Bastogne, close enough to Christmas that it had Dallas yearning for her big brother, her mother and home. This always used to be her favorite time of year, even back at Toccoa. Though Sobel was a nightmare because he didn’t celebrate the holiday and took it out on people who did, even Matty joined in on the celebration (and Dallas joined in on his and Liebgott’s, it was all very sweet.), though nothing was quite like back home in Texas with Dayton and Mama. 

Dallas wondered how Matty was now. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen him because he hadn’t been injured and forced to be dragged back here, but that just meant she didn’t know how he was doing, if he was okay. Hanukkah had come and gone, that much she knew thanks to Liebgott, who had been in and out of the Aid Station with more frequency than was probably necessary, and it killed her to think that maybe Matt hadn’t even celebrated, hadn’t remembered or cared to. It wasn’t as though she heard any news about her friend from Roe, who supposedly cared for him, but seemed to be getting more and more lackluster every time that he came into the Aid Station with another injured man. 

Dallas said as much to Renee after Eugene brought in Skinny Sisk with splinters of tree bark embedded in his shin and oozing blood but refusing morphine. Even though his tone had lifted slightly when he spoke in his native tongue to Renee as an introduction, his face remained somber as ever, skin so pale it was as though he’d never seen the sun before. Dallas was concerned, as was Renee. 

“After what you told me about him, I thought that he’d be brighter. The man I met today has had the life sucked out of him, as though his soul’s been torn out. I gave him some chocolate and it did make him smile, but he still looked so sad. What’s going on with him?” Renne asked as she rewrapped a man’s chest wound, fingers as precise and nimble as her wit. 

“No idea. He won’t even talk to me if it isn’t about someone wounded. I’m really worried about him.” They hadn’t spoken much about what the stress of war could do on the psyche in medical training, but it had been enough. Roe had some form of melancholy, sadness and hopelessness so overwhelming that it made him feel empty. Dallas didn’t need to talk to him to know that, to see his brightness dimmed so low it was almost as though it had been beaten right out of him. 

It was much the same when Eugene brought in John Julian, Babe’s best friend, whose throat was gushing forth blood. Roe didn’t say much about it, other than that a group of men had been out on patrol, Julian stepped in front of the line and had been shot in mere seconds by a German sniper on the other end. Dallas and Renee stepped up to the stretcher the young man was on quickly, not wasting a second as they staunched the blood flow, stitched up the gorey wound as best they could, disinfected it and wrapped it. They gave Julian plenty of whiskey, too, since they hadn’t had the morphine to waste, and he was fast asleep without moments. 

Roe had left as soon as Julian was unconscious, staying just long enough to make certain that he would survive before he headed back to camp. Dallas couldn’t believe her eyes: what was happening to her friend? 

“He just keeps getting worse and worse. I don’t know what to do, he won’t even talk to me, he barely even looks me in the eye.” Dallas hefted a sigh as she wiped down the cot she knelt in front of, blood staining her skin. She believed to be talking to Renee when she’d heard the footsteps, but apparently she was wrong. 

“Who we talkin’ bout, Dal? ‘Cause if a man’s treatin’ you wrong, I am always available to beat the livin’ shit outta them.” It was Liebgott. Of course it was Liebgott! Who else was around to annoy her if it wasn’t for Joseph David Liebgott?

“It ain’t got nothin’ to do with no man treatin’ me wrong. Jesus, Lieb, I thought you were Renee, go mind your business and find someone else to pester. Or better yet, go back to the line where you belong.” It was a dirty thing to say, to be fair. Dallas knew that Lieb had been hanging around, mostly running things for Winters or other little Battalion related errands because he had broken down a few times now out there in the Ardennes. Liebgott was a good soldier, but this sort of sitting and waiting to get blown up warfare was something he was not made for. He paled at Dallas’ words, biting his own sharp tongue to keep a ripping insult to himself. 

“Alright, alright, sorry I asked. Who are you so concerned about, then, if it ain’t your sweetheart?” There was a hint of jealousy in Liebgott’s tone as he leaned against the cool stone wall, lit cigarette hanging from the edge of his lips, filling the air with noxious smoke. Good thing he was keeping his distance, otherwise Dallas would’ve reamed him a new asshole for ruining her musty, stale air. 

“Since you’re so damn nosy, I was talking about Roe. I’m worried about him. He isn’t the same, hasn’t been since before Bastogne. Why? Are you goin’ to go talk to him for me, or are you going to sit here and be damn fuckin’ annoyin’ all day?” Listen, Dallas had absolutely no patience for Liebgott’s nonsense sometimes, especially when he was a nuisance like this and eavesdropping on her imagined private conversations. 

“Nah, don’t have to. Roe will be fine, we just need to get out of this shithole for it to happen. The forest sucks the life outta ya, I don’t have to tell ya that, do I?” No, Liebgott didn’t. He was here and not back there for a reason, wasn’t he? But if Liebgott was allowed to leave the line and attend to other matters when they were so short on men, why couldn’t Roe have the same treatment? Why was he forced to keep going back to this so claimed hellhole and not allowed even a day’s retreat from the fray? If anyone deserved it, it was Eugene. “What about me? Don’t I get the same concern from you?” 

Okay, now that was pushing it. Dallas did not need some nosy, needy ass twig man in her space when she was supposed to be doing her job, especially when she was certain that Liebgott had a million other things he should be doing that weren’t minding her business and begging for her attention. Cuteness only got you so far, and when it came to times like these when she was already so far on the edge that she could snap at any second, it was not the damn moment for this bullshit. “Liebgott, you better get the fuck right outta my face this instant before I whoop you ass all the way back to Michigan, or better yet, Austria so you can have a great time learning about where your family came from. Go do your job, or at least get outta here before I lose it.” 

“Hey, you remember where my family’s from!” 

“Shut the fuck up, Lieb.” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” 

Toye was not supposed to leave. He wasn’t due to leave for another couple days to a week, yet here his dumb ass was, standing in front of her, arm still wrapped up in the cloth sling like a bird with a broken wing, but he wanted to go back on the front line. “And what are you going to shoot, Joe? You can’t even move your shoulder without wincing! It’d be irresponsible of me to let you go and you think I’m just going to watch you walk out?” 

“Yeah, I do.” Normally, Dallas would find Toye’s low, gravelly voice soothing, but currently, she wanted to slap him upside the head for being such a damn fool. “Why do you even care what I do? I see you hanging off of Liebgott like you’re his damn broad. I hear you’re hanging out with Bull, too. I know Matty may pass himself around like some dime store harlot, but I thought you were different. I guess he’s rubbing off on you.” 

Dallas’ brows furrowed. Where the fuck was this coming from? She’d known Toye to be possessive and sometimes aggressive, but this was pushing the line. Jealousy did not suit the Sergeant. “First off all, Sergeant, what I do ain’t none of your business. We ain’t official or nothin’, you haven’t even taken me out on a date. What about that makes you think that you have some moronic claim on me, like I’m your damn skirt? Nah, Joseph, I don’t got no time for your bullshit. Come back when you’ve pulled your head outta your ass least I beat your behind. Go on now, wounded bird. Fly away.” 

Dallas watched Toye retreat with furrowed brows and clenched fists--she’d never heard Toye talk to anyone like that before, so he must be so jealous out of his damn mind, and for what? It wasn’t like her or Lieb or Bull had even done anything to make him jealous! Dallas had only kissed him! She was so deep in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the telltale thumps of a supply drop landing on the roof. She was just so damn angry! 

Dallas turned from the doorway, wiping her brow, and started off in the direction of actually doing her job and not being buried six feet deep in drama when she felt the cool metal of a blade pressed to her throat and a hoarse voice murmuring German in her ear. That certainly was not Liebgott. Without a second thought, Dallas took hold of the man’s elbow with both hands and wrenched it away from her, pulling it far back enough to hear the bone snap and the resounding wail of pain. She ripped the knife from the man’s hand, used her body weight to throw him onto the ground, holding him by the broken arm as she sunk the knife repeatedly into his neck. Blood spurted forth from the wound, splattering across Dallas’ skin, and she couldn’t even bring herself to care. Surely, this wasn’t what a medic was supposed to do. Dallas recalled the ancient Hippocratic oath, an idea passed down time in memorium: do no harm. But what if the person had intended to harm you first? 

“Yeah, don’t feel bad about that one, Dixon, he definitely deserved it.” Of course, because the first thing that Dallas needed right now was a Commanding Officer seeing a medic covered in blood. However, Speirs didn’t seem very angry at all, instead, he appeared to be rather amused, leaning against the doorway. “Don’t worry about it, Dixon. I’ll tell them I did it, caught ‘im coming after you. You won’t catch any heat for it.” Speirs took the few steps forward necessary to pat Dallas’ shoulder a few times before he snatched the knife from her hand and pocketed it, heading off into the night. She coulda swore she saw a gleam of pride in his eyes, and that was enough. 


	13. The Breaking Point Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> still absolutely pissed they left out eugene jackson pulling a full haldane and jones on some random fucking jeep driver lmao. we DESERVED TO SEE IT.

This was what it had come to--Roe was avoiding Matthew, Babe was out on line watch duty with Bill and Buck, Dallas was stuck miles away at the Aid Station, so Matt sought solas in the only person left that he really connected with: Sergeant Lipton. It was a particularly cold evening, so Matt was curled up beside Lip, almost entirely in his lap in an attempt to get warmer, as his NCO did tend to radiate heat. Must be the Virginian blood. Lipton was doing the best he could, arms wrapped around Matt’s torso and holding him close to him, chin resting atop the crown of his head. 

“I’ve gotcha, Matty, don’t worry. We’ll be out of here soon enough.” Matt knew that it wasn’t true, but Lip did have him so he wasn’t too worried. At least he’d die with someone who cared about him. 

“Tell me about your family, Lip. How’d you end up here, with me, in a place like this?” Matt’s teeth chattering did not help the sentence come across cleanly, but it was all he could do. He wanted to hear that soothing voice, to fall apart to a symphony of comfort. 

“There’s not much to say. My dad died in a car accident when I was young, one that paralyzed my mom. She thought it was my fault that the accident happened, because they were taking me to the hospital, so she’s sorta held it against me all these years. Me and my older brother helped her run the Inn and raise the other kids, since she lost interest in most everything after that. We didn’t have much means, but we were happy. I really miss my little siblings.” The casual way that Lipton spoke of such trauma had tears burning at the edges of Matt’s eyes. It sounded like something he had repeated more than once; practiced, clinical, detached from a pain that so obviously haunted him. 

“I’m sorry, Lip. You’ll get through this, though, and you’ll get to go back home and see them. I’m sure they’re thinking of you constantly.” It was something Matt hoped for everyone: that their loved ones thought of them, prayed for them if it was in their ideals, just sent thoughts of protection and love their way. It was what they deserved, suffering as much as they had, seeing what they had seen. 

“I sure hope so, Matty. I don’t know how they’re surviving without me.” And somehow, that knowledge hurt worse than anything that the technician could personally drag from his own internal trauma. 

Toye wasn’t supposed to be back. Hadn’t Roe just gone with him to the Aid Station a couple of days ago? Matt politely excused himself from the questioning camera man and made his way toward Toye, who was trudging through the snow with an impressive frown on his features. “Hey, Joe! Isn’t it a little early to be back here? I could swear I just saw your bone pokin’ out of your arm.” It was a joke. Or at least, what was a Matt intended joke, which usually weren’t very funny. Joe said nothing in reply, just glared at Matt as he stomped past and into the half armed embrace of Bill Guarnere. Okay, what the fuck? Whatever. It wouldn't do well to dwell on the angst of Joe Toye when there were more important things going on.

Toye would be returning to the Aid Station sooner than he’d wanted, at least. Easy Company had retaken their old position overlooking Foy, one that was magically somehow even more bombed out and wrecked than they’d left it, now with the ever exciting poop filled foxhole additions. They were really living it up! It didn’t take long for the Germans to start shelling them, and while Matt managed to crawl into a foxhole beside Sergeant Lipton, not everyone could be so lucky. After helping Babe escape out of his tree covered hole and jumping back into their foxhole for another bombardment, the shouts for a Medic sounded to still ringing ears. Lipton and Matt tore off in the direction of the voice, the urge to help greater than their fear of being wounded themselves in the act. The scene they stumbled upon would be something that haunted the duo for the rest of their lives. 

Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye were lying on the ground, broken messes, a leg blown off of each of them, respectively. Roe was already on the scene, trying to tie gauze around the bloodied stump that used to be Toye’s leg. Matt could feel bile rise in his throat, but he fell to his knees beside his lover anyway, pressing his palms just above the wound to staunch the flow of blood enough that Roe could pack the wrap on in the hopes that he wouldn’t bleed out in the snow. One look into Roe’s eyes told Matt all he needed to know. He lifted his gaze, hoping to find someone to grab a jeep when he spotted a replacement, Eugene Jackson, and ushered him over. 

“Jackson! Hey, buddy, can you call a jeep for us? We need to get these boys out to the aid station fast.” Matt asked, trying to keep his tone even and not show just how desperate these precious moments of time were for the boys on the ground. Jackson nodded, somber and resolute in his duty, before he ran off a few feet away in the direction of the road. He pulled his pistol from its holster and aimed it directly at the next driver that had been trying to fly past, but obviously stopped when he had a gun pointed at his head. Well, that wasn’t exactly what Matt had meant, but if one wanted to get the job done, he supposed, by all means necessary. 

“We need you to take two of our guys back to the Aid Station. It’s an emergent situation.” Hey, baby boy could use an authoritative tone! Lipton should be proud. 

“I can’t, I have orders to get these supplies back to Battalion. Strayer’s orders.” The driver was quivering, but seemed reluctant to be told what to do by a teenage Private. That didn’t work for Jackson. 

“I said,” Jackson pulled back the hammer of his weapon and realigned his finger with the trigger. He clearly meant business. “Stop here and wait until we load our wounded. You can bring the supplies to Battalion after.” 

The driver had to think about it for pretty much only a second before he nodded in agreement, turning off the jeep and running back with Jackson to help load Bill and Joe up. Matt gave the boy an approving look as he watched them work, leaning back on his ass on the frozen earth, blood stickied fingers staining the snow. Roe patted him on the back and gave him a quick smile before he headed off on the jeep with their friends, Jackson taking his place beside him. “You did real good, Jackson, thank you.” 

“Thank you, Sir.” Okay, Jackson was too cute for his own good. Matt butted their heads together, squeezing the boy’s neck with the back of his hand. It was that moment that he decided he’d protect this kid at all costs. 

There was no rest for Easy Company, the Germans in Foy were making quite sure of that. They’d thought they’d have a brief respite from the bombing, from the horror for just one night. Alas, the Krauts had decided that this was the perfect time to make the trees shatter like glass around them. Matt found himself in the only foxhole he’d been bothering to be in recently, so he knew he was as safe as someone could get in these woods with Lipton leaning protectively over him with his whole body. Someone was screaming, and it took Matt a little bit to realize that it was him and not some other lost soldier; it was him losing his absolute mind to the sound of everything around them exploding; the earth, the trees, the very sky itself could be cracking and raining down on them, and Matt wouldn’t know the difference. 

Soon, another body crawled into the foxhole with them, and Matt wrapped them up in his arms much like a child would with their favorite doll. 

“Muck and Penkala!” It was Luz, then. The person in Matt’s arms, also shielded beneath Lipton, was Luz. 

“What?” 

“Muck and Penkala got hit!” Oh, fuck. 

“Are they--?” 

“No, they need Roe.” Ah, if they needed Roe and not just any medic, it must be bad. Matt squeezed his eyes shut and let out a sigh. Christ, had Bastogne not done enough to them? 

“Alright, well, when the barrage stops, we’ll get him and Roe will help them, okay?” Matt hoped that he oozed more confidence than it felt he had, but all of it was fragmented when a shell landed directly on the outside of their foxhole, the three boys staring with wide eyes as they waited for the inevitable explosion that would kill them. Matt pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pockets, offering one to Luz before sliding one between his own lips, hands shaking violently as he lit them both. Lipton snatched the cigarette from Matt and took a trembling inhale. 

“I thought you didn’t smoke.” 

“I don’t.” 

The last few days that Easy stayed in the Ardennes forest were overwhelming for quite a few reasons, but none of them would be prepared for what would happen when Winters ordered the company to take over Foy once and for all. Dike was leading them into failure, which was not a shock to literally anyone who had spent more than two seconds around the man. He was inept, and failed to make even the most basic decisions, apparently, to the point that he couldn’t even follow orders given to him directly by his Commanding Officer. Matt had heard Winters: they were supposed to run across the field as fast as they could, not stopping, and straight into Foy, otherwise they’d be decimated like animals just waiting to be slaughtered. The boys were doing their best, trying to get Dike to allow them to move forward as they scattered like ants for cover when they were in ODs among a snowy white landscape. 

Dike wouldn’t budge. Easy Company was going to die. There was only one move to make now, and only Winters would be able to do it. Just when Matt had lost all hope and had accepted the fact that he was going to die in hell on earth, Ronald fucking Speirs bounded across the field and up to Dike, gripping his collar and squeezing it as though he wanted to throttle the man for even endangering the men under his protection. He wasted no time in giving ample directions and setting off on his own task and Matt followed him without question, only stopping to hide behind cover when they’d finally reached Foy. Ya know, actual cover, not a damn haystack. We’re looking at you, Dike. 

That was when Matthew witnessed the single greatest thing he had ever seen in his entire life. Not only had Speirs singlehandedly saved the entire operation that Dike had ruined in seconds flat, he’d also decided to, all by himself, run through enemy lines to hook up with I Company. Matt met Lipton’s gaze for a moment, incredulous, sure that they’d have to save his ass any moment now, but Speirs made it through unharmed. Not only that, once he’d met up with Item, Speirs ran right on back through the German forces, dodging every single thing shot at him. No one could believe their eyes. Was this the man now in charge of Easy, or was this some sort of war God? 


	14. The Breaking Point Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> forgiveness. can you imagine it?

No one believed it possible for Bastogne to get any worse. Really, Dallas was out here thinking shit had peaked at the top tier shit pile, but, alas, she was wrong. It began with Liebgott showing humanity, which was not something that Dallas believed him to be capable of, only because she hadn’t seen the way that he held Tipper when he’d been blasted by artillery or how he’d cared for Talbert after Smith made Swiss cheese outta him. Matt had. Matt was well aware of just how soft Liebgott could be, but he also had no inclination at this time to know that Liebgott was interested in his best friend. No, this was Dallas’ first real look at what lay behind the wall that Joseph spent decades building around himself. 

Dallas was taking a quick breather behind the Church, nibbling on the last bar of chocolate that she had on her. Even Matt’s endless stockpile of chocolate for her had run out by now with the nearly two month and miles of distance between them, and she was trying to savor this last bar as much as she possibly could. She spotted Liebgott loitering a bit a ways away, and prepared herself for the worst which was of course, to be assaulted by the man’s presence. However, he didn’t take any steps forward, so Dallas sighed and forced the inevitable, moving to join Liebgott as he leaned against the fence. She didn’t think she had ever seen him so downtrodden, even with his in and outs from the Ardennes. “Hey, Lieb. I’m sort of surprised you didn’t come bother me the second you got here. Seems like the sorta thing you enjoy doing.” 

Liebgott’s lips only quirked minutely at that jab, and he shrugged, looking away as he took a drag from his cigarette. “Eh, sometimes I need a day off. Can’t always be Employee of the Month as a professional Pain in the Ass.” It was enough of a joke that Dallas was no longer concerned that Liebgott was close to the edge or out of her reach. And, it was sort of cute, even if it was pretty pathetic. She leaned against the fence as well, even if it was a bit farther away so that she didn’t have to inhale the noxious gas both physically and metaphorically spilling from his lips. 

Something was definitely off with him, but Dallas knew better than to prod at him to get him to spill anything near close to personal. She would have better luck stepping around the subject than trying to crack that fucking nut. So, without a second thought (because if she did think twice about it, she probably wouldn’t do it), Dallas cracked almost all of the rest of the chocolate bar she’d been holding off, keeping the part that she’d already touched with her mouth, and offered the rest to him. “Here. I’ve been told a wise man once said that chocolate can cure all ailments. Whatever’s going on with you will work out just fine, I promise you that.” 

Dallas was not prepared for the full weight of Liebgott’s dark, very puppy-like, eyes landing on her like that, and she nearly stumbled back just to put distance between them. It was a little overwhelming, being looked at as though you’d just saved someone from themself. Liebgott gratefully took the offered chocolate, pressing it against his chest like it was a holy relic. “Thank you, Miss Dixon.” Dallas couldn’t help but smile, reaching over to pat his shoulder. 

“Hang in there, Lieb.” Later, Liebgott would tell Dallas the truth of why he was so upset that day, and to be quite honest, the expression on his face was an underreaction. Joe’s mother had gotten sick before he had enlisted, and it was actually partially one of the reasons why he’d joined up as quickly as he had--he couldn’t be there, doing nothing, just watching her waste away. No, that same day, Liebgott had gotten a letter from his father telling him that the doctors weren’t sure that his mother was going to last much longer, that the illness had progressed past the point of no return. Joe’s talk with Dallas had given him some glimmer of hope, had shed some light on a time that he’d thought he’d never recover from, and, even though it was certainly only a placebo, he’d written back to his father later that night and suggested that he give her some chocolate, having attached some in the parcel. 

However much Dallas may have helped Liebgott without even knowing, there were some people that she couldn’t help, and that was something that the medic would have to reconcile with soon enough. It was pure fucking carnage when Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye were brought into the Aid Station in the middle of the night. In fact, Dallas had been getting some much needed sleep when Renee had shaken her awake, face pale and eyes wide with fear. “What’s going on?” She murmured, rubbing at her eyes. 

“Something bad. I need your help, Dal.” Even Renee’s charming little french accent couldn’t hide the seriousness in her tone, which was the only reason that Dallas got up as quickly as she had, following hot on the heels of her companion into the intake area. Fuck, this day was on the list of her worst fucking nightmares. The worst part was that she couldn’t even dilly dally and waste time thinking about what was happening because the situation was so dire. Joe had lost so much blood as it was; he was pale, forehead drenched in sweat, and murmuring under his breath. Even Bill was better off despite how gruesome his wound was, laughing to himself and cracking jokes, trying to make her and Renee laugh. It didn’t work. 

“Hey, do you think I’ll get a lot more pity attention from skirts now, Dal?” Even his ridiculous laugh couldn’t bring a smile to her face. 

“Probably, Bill. You know the girls love a guy who walks like he got a stick up his ass.” It had come as a second nature to snap back at anything any of the guys said so even if it was probably the worst time to say shit like that, it at least made Bill laugh. The buffoon. From there, Dallas tried to focus on Toye. There wasn’t much she could do other than rewrap the messy stump of his leg and hook him up to some plasma, hoping that he would make it back to the hospital, they weren’t equipped for this sort of shit here. Dallas was just about to pull away and go get a radio call out for hospital transport when Toye grabbed her hand, seemingly conscious enough for the first time since he’d been brought in. “Joe! Hey, Joey, welcome back, I’ve gotta go get you some transport. You need to get out of here.” Her tone was firm, but wavering, and the desperation could be heard by anyone paying attention. 

“Dal...before I go, I have to tell you. Just in case I die.” Toye tried to sit up, but Dallas pushed on his chest as gently as she could to get him to lie the fuck back down. 

“You’re not going to die, Joe, I just need to get you help.” 

“Dal!” Dallas froze, staring down at the man she had been half in love with for so damn long like he’d smacked her. “I’m sorry about what I said before, I didn’t mean that shit. I know I hurt you, and I was being a dick, but I was just...I was just jealous, not that it’s an excuse or nothin’, but. I couldn’t leave you thinking that I’m just another jackass with my head so far up my ass that I don’t know right from wrong. I shouldn’t have said anything. I hope that we can still be friends.” 

Dallas didn’t often get emotional, but she could feel the tears burning behind her eyelids, wanting, more than anything, to fall. “Joe, of course we’re friends. I care about you, and right now I just want you to get better. So please, rest. Heal.” Dallas leaned down and pressed a kiss to Toye’s clammy brow, running a hand through his hair one last time. Once Bill had been properly fixed up for transportation as well, the two men disappeared in the back of an ambulance. Someday, Dallas hoped to see them again. There were too many casualties in this war already, it was almost too much to bear. 

It was starting to wear on everyone, that much was clear. More and more often now, men were coming in with empty eyes and unresponsive to any sort of outside stimuli. There wasn’t anything that Dallas could do for them other than let them rest and hope for the best, maybe give them chocolate or any sort of food she could get her hands on. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t and they had to be sent to the Psych ward. One thing she’d never thought she would see was Buck Compton lying on a stretcher, curled in on himself, gaze dead while his eyes overflowed with tears, even as Malarkey read a letter from home to him. If Donald Malarkey couldn’t cheer you up, there wasn’t much light left, now was there? 

“It’s not your fault, Malarkey. Sometimes they’re just like this, they’re the only ones who can pull themselves out.” Dallas offered as Malarkey had turned to leave, staring across the room at Buck one last time. 

“I know. It just feels like shit knowing that the last of my friends can’t even hang on. What chance do I have?” Muck and Penkala had just come in the day before, blasted beyond recognition they were so burnt. It was something that Dallas would never be able to forget. At least they were alive, in some fucking miracle. 

“Don’t think about it like that, Mal. You’re alive, you’re here, and you can continue being here for them, okay? That is a blessing.” Dallas’ lips pursed before she pulled the man into a brief hug, cradling the back of his head with her hand. She could feel him relax into her hold and let out a weak sob. “I’ve got you, Mal, it’s going to be okay. Don’t worry about a thing. You will get through this.” 

There was only one thing that could get Dallas through this slump of fucking month, and that was seeing Matt, alive and well, curled up on a damn pew in a tiny church, surrounded by candles and all of their friends. The way that his face lit up when he saw her was enough to settle the anxieties at the back of her mind, at least for just a moment. Matt ran full speed toward his friend, pulling her in the tightest hug that he could manage, grinning from ear to ear. “Dallas, thank God you’re okay! I have so much to tell you!” 

“So do I. What’s Lieutenant Speirs doing here?” 

“Well, that’s part of it. He’s our CO now, actually.” 

“Wait, what?” 


	15. The Last Patrol Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in this house we love david webster damnit.

Matthew and Dallas had a lot of catching up to do, it seemed. So much so that they had chattered away all night in the Chapel, even as the rest of Easy slept. Well, and they did rather enjoy eavesdropping on what was supposed to be a private conversation between Lieutenant Speirs and Sergeant Lipton--or soon to be  _ Lieutenant  _ Lipton. The lighting in the Church was awfully romantic, so it couldn’t be blamed that the two were making massive moon eyes at one another, but it was plenty amusing. So what if they giggled a few times! So what if Speirs heard the giggles and looked over at them! It didn’t mean a thing! 

“Do you think he noticed?” Matt whispered in a hushed tone, the tips of his ears turning a violent shade of red. 

“Yes, I think he noticed, Matty, stop giggling.” Dallas hissed under her breath, nudging him with an elbow. If Speirs’ expression was a little more amused than before, well, so be it. It wasn’t like they had latched onto him like a pseudo father figure or anything. The evening was a much needed respite from the struggle that life had become once they landed in Normandy, and though it was brief, it lifted quite a bit of heavy weight from their shoulders. On top of that, a lot of tension was relieved on Matt’s part since being reunited with Dallas, whom he had been concerned about above all else, even Roe, though at the least he knew that Eugene was physically safe even if he was mentally somewhere else entirely.

Now that they were in Hagenau, it was starting to feel like maybe they would survive the war. Even if the Germans bombed them here, too, at least they were hidden away in houses and had some semblance of warmth and one another. Even Dallas was here, on a much needed break from the less-than-busy Aid Station, draped across Matt’s bunk like she owned the place, not that Matt minded since he was one hundred percent cool with napping on Babe’s bunk with his head pillowed against his chest. Liebgott was hovering as per usual, at the end of the bunks, gaze roving to Dallas every few minutes, as if to check if she was still there. She was, of course. It’s not like she can teleport like Ronald fucking Speirs. If you had told Matt three years ago that Liebgott would catch feelings for literally anyone, especially his best friend, the boy would’ve burst out laughing at the mere prospect. Sure, Joe had a soft side that Matt had seen more than most, especially during literally any holy holiday, but it didn’t mean that he had a romantic bone in his body, but surprises did happen. It was obvious that Liebgott liked Dallas. By now, even oblivious Dick Winters could probably notice, but Joe still hadn’t said anything. Matt would give him one more chance until he would make it plain and obvious. After all, who didn’t like ultimatums? 

The stomping of boots up the steep staircase weren’t enough to wake Matt, but the pillow smacking him directly in the face sure was. Startling awake, Matt instantly turned to glare at Dallas because who else would throw a fucking pillow at him? However, his glare was interrupted by the knowledge of what Dallas was looking at, which just happened to be David Kenyon Webster. He looked fresh, clean and absolutely like an adorable kicked puppy at the fact that no one had greeted him. 

“David!” Matt nearly smacked poor Babe in the head in his rush to get out of the bunk, kicking and fighting to launch himself off and into the arms of his friend. He was audibly squealing, yes, but there’s nothing embarrassing about that when you hadn’t seen your friend in four months, okay, get off his back! “David, I can’t believe you’re back.” At least this seemed to cheer up the pout on Webster’s face as he squeezed Matt in his arms, reaching to wrap Dallas in the hug as well when she joined them in the doorway. 

“Hey, guys, it’s good to be back. I missed you. Physical therapy is the single most boring thing I’ve ever been through.” 

“Yeah, well, you missed a lot, Web. Julian, Muck, Penkala, Toye, Guarnere, they’re all gone, they’re all back home. And Speirs is Captain now.” Dallas always did loving spilling the delicious hot tea, and to see the expression on David’s face was well worth it. “But c’mon, Web, come take a load off.” Liebgott scoffed from his staring position of choice, forcing Dallas to turn and give him a look. He shut right up at that. 

“Anyway, it’s not just me. We’ve got a new Lieutenant. Erm--Lieutenant Jones?” Webster stepped to the side and Matt nearly jumped, as he hadn’t noticed the silent fresh out of West Pointer standing behind him. 

“Jesus Christ! Has he been here this whole time?” Matt asked, a hand pressed to his chest in the hopes to still his viciously beating heart. 

“Afraid so, Technician.” Lieutenant Jones replied curly as he stepped between the embrace and walked straight on through to Malarkey, causing Matt to gasp in affront. 

“I don’t like him very much, I’ll admit.” Matt stated quite succinctly, now moving out of hugging range, uncomfortable with the idea of being watched by an outsider, especially one so baby faced and militaristic. Which was kinda funny considering they were all the military. 

“You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause he didn’t immediately fall under your spell,” Liebgott spoke up once again from his creeper corner, and Matt’s gaze zeroed in on him like a damn hawk hunting his prey. It had obviously been a joke, because everyone around these parts knew that Lieb had basically adopted Matt as a baby brother the second they’d discovered they were the only two Jewish folks in Easy, but Matt was sleep deprived and lacking Vitamin Roe so he went in for the kill despite knowing this fact. 

“Oh, that’s interesting coming from the peanut gallery. What, you can stop ogling Dallas for two seconds just to say some snarky commentary about what’s going on in the room? Very nice for you to level up, Lieb, we’re all very proud.” For a second, Matthew was embarrassed at the realization that perhaps he’d taken it a step too far and wounded Liebgott’s ego past the point of return but, upon seeing Lieb blush at the way Dallas was smirking, he knew he was toeing a very careful balance and that all would be forgiven later. After they were done with their faux beef. 

“Like you have any right to say shit about any sort of pining Mister Crawling All Over Babe while still carrying a torch for the Untouchable Good Doctor. Just pick one. Jesus, it’s like reading a damn romance novel, I’m exhausted, Matty.” Liebgott emphasized his half cocked speech with a gesture of his coffee mug, which did slosh over the edge and onto the cuff of his jacket. 

Matt’s eyes narrowed and he took the precious few steps forward so he could poke Liebgott’s chest with as much vigor as a half asleep practical child could. “I’ll pick one when you tell Dallas you want to kiss her under a romantic sunset or some shit. God damn, I’ll do it for you. Hey Dal! Liebgott wants to kiss you!” 

Do not involve Dallas in this siblings roast session, por favor. Christ. Dallas pinched the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb, heaving the heftiest of sighs. “Jesus, Matty, don’t involve me, please. I know he likes me, I’m waiting for him to make a move. A lady has patience.” 

“Well, I sure don’t!” The bickering continued, as it often did when Liebgott and Matt were left to their own devices. Dallas just took Webster and Babe by the shoulders, leading them away from the fray and towards the window, where Grant and Ramirez were already staring out, sipping on mugs of coffee, wishing they were anywhere else but here. 

“Wait. You think Matty likes me?” Babe asked, brows furrowed in confusion but gaze very hopeful. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re cute. Just have some coffee. This is going to be a minute.” 

The bickering did cease fire, eventually. For the moment. It was tabled, really, since Matt refused to back down until Liebgott admitted he had feelings for Dallas or at least kissed her, or something, anything, and seeing as he refused to, anytime things got heated between them it went straight back into the same argument. Everyone was trying to keep them apart to avoid listening to the bickering, which was why Matt was volunteered to help Luz help Vest sort through rations and bring them to their applicable group. 

It had been going well, until a group of the guys busted into the room begging for damn hershey bars and Lucky Strikes whilst the trio were just trying to do their job. Really, who could’ve been surprised when Roy Cobb was involved featuring Liebgott and his new obsession with chocolate. 

“I don’t care what news you may or may not have, if you keep begging for supplies like a cockney street urchin, I’m going to kick your ass,” Matt grumbled as he snatched Hershey Bars from Cobb’s hands, throwing them backwards into the appropriate box. 

“Well, we do actually have news,” Liebgott offered, turning his big brown eyes on Matt like they would do a damn when he was still irritated with him about Dallas. Listen, so much would be resolved, just kiss her damnit! 

“Oh, do you now, Lieb? I’d love to hear it. In fact, it would really make my day special to hear whatever it is you have to say.” Matt juggled a chocolate bar as a teasing bargain, hoping that it was something interesting--if it was good enough, Matt would give Liebgott the chocolate. Probably. Definitely not Cobb though, cause fuck Cobb. 

“We’re going on a Patrol, 0100. Sink’s orders.” 

“Wait, who’s we? And for what? What is there to patrol, no one’s crossed the river on either side.” 

“Didn’t you hear? All of second platoon. Mal’s in charge. God, there could be only two of us left and they’d still want us to go. I swear Sink has it out for us. The war’s almost over, but he wants us to risk our lives and cross the river, try and bring back some Kraut prisoners.” 

“Try? So it’s not even a guarantee?” 

“Nah, Matty. Welcome to Hitler’s imagined paradise.” Matt scoffed at Lieb’s words and tossed him the chocolate bar, ignoring Vest’s protests behind him. If he was about to go down swinging for something stupid, he at least had to do one damn thing before he let himself die for General Taylor and his idiot disciples. 


	16. The Last Patrol Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jonathon meir and dayton dixon deserved the world and i'll say it louder for those in the back.

“So, I finally got Lieb to admit that he likes you. He was sorta angry about it, but I think he’s finally trying to make a move. No thank you necessary, only doing my duty as best friend.” Matt greeted Dallas with information as she walked into the barracks, lying upside down on his bunk, head dangling dangerously over the edge. 

“And I talked to Roe to fix your little issue, but no thanks necessary there, either, Sir.” Dallas replied, a smug little smirk resting on her lips. It hadn’t been a particularly lengthy conversation but this is how it went down: Dallas, still bored out of her gourd thanks to a near end to the War and minimal wounds aside from the occasional sprained ankle or gash, was sick of the lack of communication between her best friend and Roe. Really, it was ridiculous that they still hadn’t bridged the gap between them since Bastogne had turned Eugene to stone. He had warmed considerably, with the weather, with time away from the front. There was no reason that they shouldn’t be making out whenever there was down time. 

“Eugene Gilbert Roe,” Dallas always had a bit of flair for the dramatic, and it was no different as she stormed into the Aid Station, hands stuffed into the pockets of her apron. Eugene barely even looked up from what he was doing, which Dallas didn’t quite know ‘cause...what even was that, but whatever, we digress! “I know you’ve sorta been avoiding Matty since Bastogne for reasons unknown to any party other than you, but let me just say that if it has anything to do with Babe, that there is no reason to worry because Babe wants to fuck both of you, and so does Matt, and if you do, too, then that’s okay and y’all should just get over it and talk like you’re grown ‘cause I’m tired of this shit.” 

Roe finally looked up from his little project, eyes wide and jaw slack, so in shock of what had just come out of his friend’s mouth. Then, an adorable blush pinkened his entire face, and he started to stammer, his delicate sensibilities so shaken up by something so improper. The best he could come up with was, “Pardon?” 

“I’m just saying, Gene. It makes sense that Matty caught feelings, you left him alone and while that’s okay and you needed your space, he doesn’t understand that he’s still in love with you while also falling for Babe. Babe has been giving the both of you moon eyes damn near since he first joined Easy, and you’re the only variable here that is undecided. I think you three could be real happy together, Genie. I know it’s unconventional, but it would work, and if anyone deserves happiness it’s you three, especially after what we’ve all been through. Okay, so, either get your ass in gear and accept the fact that all y’all are perfect for each other or go break up with Matt because I really can’t deal with any longer.” Dallas stood with her hands on her hips, and Roe could do nothing but stare at her for another lingering moment of silence. 

“Well, Liebgott’s in love with you.” 

“Yeah, that I also know, and I will deal with that soon enough. Just mind your own business and get your shit together, okay?” 

“Wait, what issue?” Matthew asked, nose scrunching up in confusion. He rolled over onto his stomach so he could look at Dallas properly, the question still posed in the air unanswered. 

The question would never be answered. At least not by Dallas, because you know, what are friends for aside from fixing up the mess that is your love life and also hiding the outcome of said fixing? Exactly. 

Chocolate! Dallas had thought that there was no more chocolate left in Europe since Easy Company seemed to scrounge and store it in their little packs like it was amphetamine, the damn squirrels. Even Matty hadn’t been having much luck finding some for her, and his scrounging abilities were above par thanks to the easy way he flirted his way to gifts. Really, it was a talent, and it kept an endless flow of sweets to Easy up until this recently. Alas, victory, stuffed deep within a dresser for probably too long, hidden underneath a pile musty sweaters. Loot in hand, Dallas ran into the barracks, excitement clear on her features. First, she tossed a pack of Lucky Strikes to Matt, who was playing a card game, likely Spades, with Jackson. “Gift from Captain Speirs, not that he told me where he got them from,” and really, it was better not to ask. Matt squeaked and tore into the pack, passing one to Liebgott and Jackson before laying back down, outstretched, greedily sucking in that sweet, sweet toxic smoke. Liebgott leaned against the shared bunk, dark gaze staring intently at the young woman in front of him, as he tucked his cigarette into his breast pocket and looked at Dallas expectantly. “And for you. Since I know you have a sweet tooth.” She slid the sacred few bars of chocolate into the only pocket she could reach, which happened to be Liebgott’s right thigh. Matt watched them with his brows raised incredulously, waiting for the shoe to drop. 

“Thanks, Doll,” Liebgott murmured, dark lashes fanning out across his pale cheeks, looking so damn beautiful that Dallas’ heart stuttered in her chest. Slowly, reverently, Joe lifted a hand, running his fingers through Dallas’ red curls, a small smile lifting his lips. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, Jackson and Matt watching in complete interest at the event unfolding before them. Most of Easy had made bets on when Liebgott and Dallas would finally kiss, and Matt was totally about to win the entire fucking pot. If only Cobb hadn’t stomped his way up the damn stairs with Martin on his heels, the latter opening his mouth to repeat orders when Cobb had to open his own and speak. 

“Oh, finally! I can’t take any more of Liebgott acting like a pussy, too scared to take what he wants. There ya go, Lieb. Be a man.” Cobb patted Liebgott hard on the back, hard enough, even, that it jostled Dallas. That was enough of that. Dallas grabbed Cobb’s hand and wrenched it off of Liebgott, twisting it hard enough to hurt, but not break. He yelped like the pathetic boy he was. 

“What pace Liebgott and I move at is no concern of yours, so I suggest you shut your damn mouth for once, Mister Cobb, otherwise I’ll have to break it next time. Get out of here.” Dallas released Cobb’s hand and shoved him back toward the doorway, Martin’s gaze so steely that it could melt even the coolest ice cap. Cobb left posthaste, grumbling under his breath, but too much of a chicken shit to speak at a normal volume. Martin turned back to meet Dallas’ gaze, beaming as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. 

“You’re like the baby sister I always wanted. Tell me next time he’s a little shit, I’ll kill him myself.” Dallas could only smile in return, before she met Liebgott’s gaze again and nearly melted underneath the intensity of it. Although they had to listen to their orders now and go about preparing for patrol, the next time she and Joe were alone, Dallas was going to kiss the shit outta that man. 

“I’m just sayin’, Matty, we could kill him right now. We’ve got a perfect sight, perfect angle. No one would even know.” 

“They would know.” 

“How would they know? I mean, the Krauts are going to open fire when they notice what’s going on anyway, I just have to shoot ‘im. Easy peasy.” Liebgott seemed rather confident for someone who was currently lovesick and daydreaming (though technically, it was nighttime so perhaps dreaming-dreaming) about Dallas whilst they were supposed to be backup for the crew on the ground. And trust that there was no way in HELL that Matt wasn’t paying close attention to Babe, Shifty, Jackson and Webster as they floated across that god forsaken frigid river. There was a splash and suddenly, one of the boats capsized, throwing four men overboard and into the aforementioned waves. 

“Christ, who was that?” Someone who couldn’t swim, apparently, as they exclaimed that fact loud enough to wake the nearby encampment. Good thing that Liebgott had excellent eyesight. 

“It was Jackson’s boat. Everyone else is making it across.” Liebgott informed Matt, trigger finger getting a little bit more jumpy now that he noticed Cobb made it to the other side perfectly fine. 

“Don’t shoot him, Liebgott. Save it for the Germans.” Matt knew just how much Lieb hated Nazis, so it was enough to get a groan in reply as Liebgott settled back, waiting for the whistle. They had no idea just how sideways this patrol was about to go. 

Dallas followed Roe closely as he ran into the dank basement, prepared to be the calm of the storm. What she wasn’t prepared for was to see Cobb lying out on a stretcher, gasping for air as blood spurted from his mangled throat. A part of her almost felt bad for how she’d threatened to hurt him earlier, but for now Dallas would have to keep a clear head for the task at hand. And she did, she and Roe did everything that they could to keep Cobb stable enough to transport, but the moment they lifted the stretcher and tried to move, he’d started to choke on something that wasn’t visible. There was nothing they could do; Cobb died, and life went on; he was just another casualty in a war that was supposed to be over. 

The following day, Easy Company was relieved by the 36th Infantry Division, and a special guest who’d just happened to be passing through at the time. Matt couldn’t contain his tears when he spotted Jonathon among the crowd of men, military rules be damned, the technician ran through the lines of men and launched himself into his brother’s arms, wrapping his arms so tightly around him that he couldn’t even breathe. “What sort of serendipity is this?” Matt asked, refusing to respond to the yelling commanding officer behind him. Who gave a shit what a normal infantry CO thought anyway? 

“I actually bribed Hitler himself to be here. Shoulda seen the guy, he’s uglier than Aunt Susan.” Jon joked, ruffling his baby brother’s hair. 

“Is that Dallas Dixon I see?” Dayton Dixon, an imposing figure, approached Dallas, who was in the midst of hefting medical supplies onto a transportation truck. She couldn’t believe her eyes. 

“What are you doing here, Dayton?” Dallas questioned, pretending that she could give less of a shit about his presence in Haguenau, arms crossed over her chest. “I thought Rangers were supposed to be more elite than Airborne, yet here you are hanging out with the common infantry. Interesting.” 

“Am I not allowed to check on my baby sister? Is that illegal now?” Dayton sighed, perhaps more melodramatically than strictly necessary and opened his arms for her as though he was offering a hug. It was a trick. It was always a trick, and yet Dallas fell for it, as she did every time, cautiously walking toward him before she was pulled into a headlock, his knuckles nearly bruising her scalp where he scrubbed them. 

“God, you’re so annoying, get off of me!” Dallas grumbled, stepping on the inside of his instep to force Dayton back, though he pulled her into a hug soon after. “I missed you, you idiot. I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“I missed you too, Dallas.” 


	17. Why We Fight Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is web okay?? the world may never know

“You know, back home on the farm my favorite chore of the day was taking care of the chickens. There’s just something so endearing about them, they’re just so cute.” Matt sighed as he inspected the chicken coop, which was weirdly above the actual barn and rather precarious for the chickens, hefting himself up so that he could freely scope out the egg situation. 

“You sure talk a lot about farms for someone who comes from Massachusetts.” Perconte unnecessarily pointed out, feet unsteady as he and Luz stood on a box so that they could reach up into the attic. 

“That’s ‘cause I lived on a farm, Frank.” Matt huffed, reaching out to stroke the feathers on one of the birds. 

“Well, I don’t need to have lived on a farm to know that you grab a chicken by the feet.” Luz stepped forward to reach for a chicken and was met with the aggressive beating of its wings because anyone with half a brain cell knows that you wrap your hands around the wings so they don’t try to fly away. Really, it was what he deserved.

Matt gently pressed his boot against Luz’s arm so he would release the chicken, nodding down below them. “How about you two hooligans ask if the farmer has milk or something, I’ll get the eggs.” 

It was a better plan. After all, Matt didn’t want the two’s shenanigans to end with them getting a dirty chicken claw to the eye; that was just asking for an infection. 

Now back at camp with a helmet full of eggs, a jug of milk and a fresh shiner on your jaw if you were George Luz, Matt reclined back on a chair beside Dallas, listening to Nixon ramble off the news with a tone so disinterested that he sort of wanted to cry. “Nixon seems worse than usual, no?” He asked Dallas, cracking an eye open, which is all he dared the way the sun was beating down on them. 

“Yeah, I can smell the alcohol from here. What do you think is going on?” Dallas replied, rolling her eyes so hard they nearly dropped from her skull when Luz started the whole company up in a rendition of Oklahoma whilst she and her friend were trying to speak about the wellbeing of one of their officers. Once it had settled down, Matt hummed in thought. 

“I’m not sure, but I am worried about him. Maybe we can spy on Officer’s Poker tonight?” Perhaps the quartet would let on more than any of the enlisted men should know--it was a perfect plan. 

“On it. I’ve got the perfect idea on how we can do that.” 

The genius idea of Dallas’ proved to be a childish game of Truth or Dare with five other Easy Company members, which only succeeded in Matt drunkenly admitting his feels for both Babe and Roe, Liebgott kissing Dallas with his whole chest and caused widespread embarrassment to run rampant through the room for everyone involved. Which, really, had been the secondary goals of the evening, anyway, so it didn’t matter much. However, the frivolities had to be put on hold when Matt, even in his drunken stupor, noticed that there were heavy boots clomping around the next room. One of the officers was leaving. Matt crawled towards the door and pressed his ear to it; his hearing might’ve been shit thanks to the loud weaponry that Easy worked with, but he could still tell that it was Nixon. The Captain was making his exit, and Matt knew that this was their only shot to get him alone and drunk enough that he might be willing to answer prying personal questions. 

Clambering to his feet, Matt neglected to grab his jacket and burst through the doorway, hot on the heels of Nixon, who was already heading out the front door. Matt stumbled on his way out, almost spilling into Welsh’s lap if he hadn’t grabbed the Lieutenant’s chair at the last second. 

“Meir, are you drunk?” Speirs’ voice filled the uncomfortable void of silence. Matt could only nod. 

“Yes Sir, I am drunk.” Well, at least it wasn’t a lie. Speirs stared at Matt for a moment too long before he grinned, wide and sharklike. 

“Go ahead,” Matt saluted Speirs, laughed, and then continued on his task to follow Nixon, not noticing that Dallas had finally stopped kissing Liebgott and had followed him out. Matt ran through the rain after Nixon, soaping wet seconds in and soaked to the bone. Dallas was adjacent to her friend, keeping herself under cover for the most part by remaining beneath awnings and roofs of parallel buildings. 

“Matt! What are you doing, you’re going to catch ill!” Dallas yelled, causing Matt to pause in his chase. 

“We need to get Nixon! Now’s our chance to ask what’s wrong.” The shattering of glass sounded off nearby; Matt and Dallas took off full speed toward the sound. They caught Nixon as he had rounded a corner, passing by a storefront that had a trash can thrown through it. That had to be Nixon’s doing. 

“Jesus, Bambi, slow down! What’s so urgent that you’re running through the pouring rain?” Dallas asked, grabbing her commanding officer by the elbow. It was improper for certain, but this was important. Nixon looked down at Dallas’ hand, then back into her gaze before he burst into laughter. 

“Bambi? I forgot that’s what you two call me. What do you want?” It was clear Nixon was trying to avoid the subject, but the Panic Pair would not give up so easily. 

“What’s up with you lately? Your drinking has gotten worse, you’re surly, you’re even avoiding Major Winters. Tell us what’s going on, Sir.” The sir was an afterthought on Matt’s part, but it was a nice addition. As was the massive sheet of rain falling on all three of them, which caused Matt to start to shiver since he’d already taken a full brunt of it by then. Nixon didn’t stand a chance to the puppy eyes. He burst into tears, falling against Matt with a desperate wail. It wasn’t the first time that Matt had seen a man break, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it was one that hurt him deep in his chest. Matt wrapped his arms around Nixon, gaze melancholic as it met Dallas’. “Hey, it’s okay, Sir. It’ll all be okay.” 

They never found out exactly what was wrong with Captain Nixon that night, as there was only one person who could truly crack his shell open, but they both hoped that being there for him in a moment of need was enough to put him back on the right track. Those hopes were partially dashed when Dallas and Matt and the rest of Easy, really, overheard Nixon tell Dick that his wife was divorcing him and taking the dog (it was his dog!), though anticipated that perhaps now Major Winters would finally make a move on Captain Nixon and would settle some of the ache in the Intelligence Officer’s heart. 

The journey to Bavaria, though cramped and long, was amusing to say the least. After a couple of renditions of ‘Blood Upon the Risers’, Liebgott decided to amuse the troop transport he was on by describing his dream woman to Webster, who was less than thrilled, and possibly disgusted, by this information. He did not know what had occurred the past evening, thus, was only aware that Joe was being gross, and not playing a very cruel, unusual prank on him. Poor kiddo. 

“It’s gonna be good times, Web. When we get home, I mean. First thing I’m gonna do is get my job back at the cab company in Frisco. Make a killing off all the fucking sailors coming home, you know?” Webster was just trying to eat his tin of mystery meat, why was he being objected to this? “Then I’m going to find me a nice Jewish girl with great big soft titties and a smile to die for. Marry her. Then I’m gonna buy a house, a big house, with lots of bedrooms for all the little Liebgotts we’re going to be making.” 

Webster seemed perturbed to say the least, staring down blankly at the tin in his hand, while Matt turned from looking at the gorgeous scenery they passed by to glare at his fellow machine gunner. “Really, Lieb, after last night you’re going to be gross like this? I mean, seriously. You’re disgusting. Stop objectifying women and stop teasing Webster. We all know who you’re going to marry, and it sure as hell ain’t a nice Jewish girl. Though she’s close enough, I think.” 

“Matty, shut the hell up, I was just tryin’ to tease Webster. God, you’re real fucking annoying.” Liebgott ran a hand through his hair, sighing rather dramatically. 

“And you’re an asshole, so fair’s fair. Just wait until I tell Dallas.” Matt stuck out his tongue. They were adults, really. Webster seemed appeased, though. Until Liebgott started prodding him again, and by that point he was too far gone into a mood that no one could stop him from shouting at the German prisoners they passed the following morning, he was still so fired up. Damn Liebgott and his antics. 

“Hey, you. That’s right you stupid Kraut bastards, that’s right. Say hello to Ford and General fucking Motors. You stupid facist pigs. Look at you, you have horses. What were you thinking?” Matt tugged on Webster’s arm, trying to pull him back from the edge, both metaphorically and physically. 

“That’s enough, Webster, give it a rest.” Garcia groaned, trying his hand at shutting David up. It failed. He stood again, screaming louder this time. 

“Dragging our asses half-way around the world, interrupting our lives, and for what? You ignorant servile scum, what the fuck are we doing here? Huh?” Webster did have a point, to be fair. What was the reason for this war if the Germans were going to surrender? What was the point of all the bloodshed, all the death, if ultimately, nothing was going to change? 


	18. Why We Fight Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the one very serious chapter. please be aware that there are graphic depictions of the holocaust and a concentration camp ahead, read at your own risk.

They had all thought that Bavaria was going to be Easy’s paradise, a place of escape for the weathered and exhausted men. It had been for the Nazis, so why would they not expect the same for them? Lansberg was an education for Easy Company. Throughout most of the war, the United States Military overlooked the rumors that flooded through their Intelligence Officers, rumors that they’d rather ignore and deny than to accept the reality and full weight of. There was no possible way that Death Camps were real. Sure, they set up Internment Camps for their own citizens of Japanese heritage in their own borders as a way to quell the fear and hysteria surrounding Asians on the whole, not just those that attacked Pearl Harbor, but that was not the same thing. Of course not. On top of that, it was entirely morally sound to turn away Jewish folk seeking asylum from Europe and the atrocities that Hitler was incurring upon them. All of it was just war time rumors, there was absolutely no way that war crimes were happening beneath the nose of the United States. 

From the day that any soldier stepped foot into boot camp, propaganda was shoved down their throat that Hitler had to be stopped; not because he was rounding up, slaughtering and imprisoning those that the state considered ‘undesirable’ (Jews, Queer folk, Travelers, Poles, BIPOC, the list goes on), but because we had to support our Allies who were getting invaded. Really, the overarching theme of all warfare from the United States standpoint is the ‘secure freedom’ for anyone deemed worthy of it, which usually happened to be those with money or something that we could benefit from. If you were going to be sent to the Pacific, you were taught that the Japanese people were savage and brutal, that they would stop at nothing to kill you and any semblance of culture and humanity in the world. They bombed Pearl Harbor! We had no choice but to villainize a whole group of people and attack them on their home soil by principal. And murder thousands of innocent civillians by bombing major cities, but that hasn’t happened yet. 

Lansberg was an education. Up until that point, an average soldier had no reason to disbelieve what they had been told and assume that Concentration Camps existed throughout Europe, running in secret, unknown, even, to the civilians in neighboring towns. They thought that the undesirables were just shipped out of State! How were they to know that innocent people had been slaughtered or forced to work themselves to death? Lansberg, on first sight, was a prison camp. It wasn’t unheard of. They could be prisoners of war, draft dodgers, whatever the Nazis deemed bad enough to seclude from the rest of the populous. When Perconte had come running through town as though he’d seen a ghost, no one knew what to think. Everyone loaded up into the transport trucks like it was any other trip, cheery, chatting; it was almost as though they were celebrating, after all, the war was so close to an end, they could taste the sweet tang of freedom. How wrong they were. 

Matt hopped off the truck, shuffling his rifle up his shoulder as he reached a hand up for Dallas to help her down. The fresh air, surrounded by the lush greenery, sun shining down on them, it was a recipe for perfection, if the smell of fire, rotting flesh and something truly unholy didn’t linger in the air. The silence, complete and utter silence, was absolutely deafening. Something was very wrong. The smile fell from Matt’s face as he took the necessary steps forward to actually see what they had been brought to. He wrapped his fingers around the fence surrounding the area, whatever it was, ignoring the way the wire pricked his skin and caused him to bleed. He couldn’t look away from the men staring back at him--if you could call them men anymore. Most were thin, impossibly so, as if they had been starving for years, lingering just past the beckoning of death. Some wept, some spoke in German, Polish, languages that were foreign to Matt’s ears, but the tone of them was universal: they were begging, pleading, and Matt wished he knew what for. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to help them. 

Major Winters approached the main gate, his expression stoic, gaze full of heartbreak. Even Captain Speirs seemed perturbed, when Matt looked up to watch the proceedings. Dallas moved to stand beside Matt, chewing on the inside of her lip as she looked at the people behind the fence; they were malnourished, dehydrated, on precipice of death itself. “What the hell is this place?” 

“I don’t know,” Matt murmured, pulling his fingers free from the wire, wiping his now blood stained skin against his OD’s, eyes never leaving the men before him. “But it’s terrifying, whatever it is.” Perconte and Christensen cut the chain link sealing the gate shut, slowly and carefully pushing the doors so that they didn’t trample over the prisoners, who refused to move back, so eager to gain their freedom, and the soldier’s understanding. That only opened the floodgates. As soon as the men of Easy began to enter the camp, waves of more prisoners began to come forward, engulfing the main path with the sheer number of hobbling, wounded, desperate people. 

A man wrapped his fingers around the cuff of Matt’s jacket, pleading, weeping for something that the technician could only guess. Matt pulled his jacket from his shoulders, wrapping it around the man’s thin form, offering him his canteen, ignoring the own dryness in his mouth as he spoke what little German he knew, something that Liebgott had taught him. “ _ Alles wird gut _ .  _ Alles wird gut, das verspreche ich _ .” The man began to weep and it caused tears to prickle in the edges of Matt’s eyes. He didn’t know what to do, it was so overwhelming. 

Dallas wasn’t fairing much better. She had fallen to her knees beside a couple of prisoners, one cradling the other in his arms. Dallas offered the upright man water, rations, anything she could think of, but he refused, holding his companion, whatever he was to him, up to her every time, as if to tell her that he was who needed the attention. However, Dallas knew better--the second man was too far gone, and there would be no saving him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

After Matt’s rations and water supplies ran dry, he spotted Liebgott, Winters, Nixon and Speirs standing beside a prisoner and knew that Lieb was translating the situation for their officers. He jogged over, wrapping his fingers around Liebgott’s wrist, using the touch to ground himself. For once, Liebgott didn’t push him away, though continued listening intently to whatever the man was saying. 

“He said the guards left this morning, Sir. They burned some of the huts first, with the prisoners still in them, Sir. Alive.” 

“Jesus Christ.” Nixon uttered audibly. 

“Some of the prisoners tried to stop them, some of them were killed. They didn’t have enough ammo for all the prisoners, so they killed as many as they could before they left the camp. They locked the doors behind them and headed south.” 

“Someone in town must have told them we were coming.” Nixon theorized, giving Winters a knowing look. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Liebgott confirmed. 

“Will you ask him what kind of camp this is? Why are they here?” Winters requested, looking expectantly at Liebgott. 

“He says it’s a work camp for, er,  _ unerwünschte.  _ I’m not sure what the word means, Sir. Uh, unwanted, disliked, maybe?”

“Criminals?” 

“I don’t think criminals, Sir.  _ Verbrecher _ ?” Liebgott asked the prisoner, who vehemently shook his head and rambled in reply. “No. Doctors, musicians, tailors, clerks, farmers, intellectuals. I mean, normal people.” The man repeated one word, over and over again. That was a word that Matt knew.  _ Juden _ . Jews. Matt’s heart sunk into his belly, and his hold on Liebgott tightened. “They’re Jews. Poles and gypsies.” The man pointed out past the fence and Liebgott asked questions in quick succession, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. The man turned from the officers, weeping, almost as though he was crying out to the heavens. 

“Liebgott?” Winters asked, attempting to shake Lieb from the utter horror of it all. 

“The women’s camp is at the next railroad stop.” Matt’s knees began to wobble--the only thing holding him up at that moment was his hold on Liebgott’s wrist.  _ Juden. Juden. _ It echoed over and over again, like a broken record in the forefront of his mind. 

A few feet down the road, Babe was staring at a couple of crumpled bodies, eyes glassy when he nudged Dallas, who’d been staring at the ground for a handful of breaths. “Hey, Dal. Come here.” Dallas looked up at the sound of her voice, advancing toward Babe until she could see what the barrel of his rifle was pointed at. “Look at their arms.” Numbers were tattooed into the skin. 

“Like cattle,” Dallas replied, distant. It was clear that these prisoners were viewed not only as such, but as less than human, as property to be used up and disposed of. 

After the part of Easy that had gone back to town to get food and water returned, Major Winters was given orders by Sink to cease the handing out of supplies directly; that until they could find better lodgings, they had to lock the prisoners back up in the camp and supervise their food intake and medical treatment. That was the last straw for Matt, who’d been close to snapping for hours now. He let go of Liebgott’s arm, which he’d been clutching onto like a child clutching onto their mother’s skirt for most of that time, covered his mouth with his palm and fled out the gates, disappearing into the trees. Liebgott was to translate this message to the prisoners, no matter how despairing he was at the idea of that. He climbed onto the transport truck that the men had been handing out food from, clearing his throat to get the attention of the prisoners, before he began to speak. “ _ Achtung bitte. Sie müssen wieder ins Lager zurück. Es ist nur für eine kurze Zeit. Damit wir Sie mit richtigem Essen und mit Medizin versorgen können, bitte. Ziehen Sie wieder ins Lager. Es ist für Euer eigenes Wohl. _ ”

Liebgott inhaled sharply, his breath rattling in his chest as he sat down. He gasped for air, shuddering. Dallas hefted herself up into the transport beside Lieb, clambering onto the seat beside him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him against her chest, Lieb began to sob, stuffing his face into the curve of Dallas’ neck, holding onto her like a lifeline. “It’s okay, Joe. I’m here. You’ll be okay.” Liebgott only sobbed harder; nothing would be able to console him other than time. 

Roe found Matt about an hour or so later, curled up at the base of a tree, arms wrapped protectively around his torso. He crouched beside him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to rouse him from his petrified stupor. Matt twitched under the touch, but didn’t look up at Roe. “Hey. Matthew. Come back ta me. Ya promised ya would, remember?” That made Matt snap out of it, only to crawl into Eugene’s arms and begin to weep. “That’s okay,  _ mon chér _ i. I’m here.  _ Je t'ai eu _ .” This was the only time Matt would believe it when someone said that they had him. 


	19. Points Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no one needs to know just how long i spent looking up how the points system worked and trying to figure out how many points the characters in question would have. it was too long, don't ask. i suffered.

Easy took Berchtesgaden. Although they were supposed to wait for engineers (who were late) to figure out the best way to tackle the giant landslide that blocked their way, Captain Speirs was crafty, and because Major Winters allowed him, a small group of men found a way around the blockade and into Berchtesgaden. The town was abandoned by the great majority of its populace, which Nixon stated was because to reside here, you had to be a Nazi, and claim pride in that. Everyone was inclined to believe it. 

Matt and Dallas didn’t know where Speirs was dragging them, but they didn’t mind altogether too much. Though initially, the duo hadn’t thought much of Speirs, this was mostly due to the rumors surrounding him, true or not, and because he had been a part of another company entirely. Since they’d spent more time around him, and being commanded by him, they had quickly decided that he was one of their more favorite people, and did as much as they could to be in his company. 

“Where are we going, Sir?” Matt chirped, considerably lightened now that they were no longer anywhere near Lansberg and the grim reminder of why they had fought this war. Speirs didn’t generally allow people to touch him, but for the moment, as he led Dallas and Matt up a steep incline, Matt’s hand was firmly held in his own. 

“The Eagle’s Nest, Hitler’s own personal paradise.” Speirs replied, grin as playful as a child’s. “A special treat for you two.” Although most of the Germans who were left had already surrendered, and those that they did stumble upon in Berchtesgaden were dead, they still needed to search every inch of the town just in case there were some to weed out that were potential threats. 

“Is this where he killed himself, Sir?” Dallas questioned, wondering if the trio were about to stumble in on some grim sight, but Speirs shook his head. 

“No, he was in a bunker in Berlin.” This information didn’t, however, quell Matt’s urge to smash everything he was about to see in this very expensive custom paradise. In fact, as soon as they pushed the doors open, Matt stepped forward, quickly, sidearm in hand, toward the pristine window adjacent to the entryway. Speirs placed a hand on his shoulder, gently tugging him backward, and their eyes met. 

“Let me teach you two a little something.” Curious, Dallas and Matt followed Speirs as he approached the body of a Nazi Officer, rolling it over with a grunt so he could pluck the Lueger from his stiffened hands. 

“No offense, Sir, but we’ve seen plenty of looting done the past few years.” Dallas stated, crossing her arms. Really, Liebgott had spent hours showing her his ‘impressive’ collection, and it was a wonder how that shit fit into all of his pockets. 

“Not the way I do it. See, they’ve been doing this shit in Europe this whole time, specifically stealing Jewish cultural and historical relics. Art, silverware, wedding rings. This is another form of payback. We can take what’s theirs and do what they’re doing, give them a taste of their own medicine. Anything that looks expensive, important, take it. It’s yours. This is the truth of war: the spoils go to the victor, and we, my dears, are the victors.” Matt and Dallas followed Speirs around the Eagle’s Nest, snatching up whatever they found necessary, stuffing their pockets full. In fact, they spent the next couple of days, in between celebrating of course, snatching whatever they could get their grubby little hands on. 

Elated and relieved by this course of action, Matt and Dallas climbed the numerous staircases to the top of the Eagle’s Nest in search of Speirs, to show him their daily findings. Not only did they find him, they found Nixon and Welsh as well, drunk, trying to list off the important members of the Nazi party. It was hilarious. Though they had often seen Nixon drunk, the same couldn’t be said for the other two, and drunk Speirs was absolutely precious. As soon as he saw the two, he reached for them, beckoning them to the seat he was sharing with Nixon. The Captain fully pulled the duo into his lap, even though they didn’t really fit and were spilling out all over the place. Even so, neither could hide their laughter. 

“There’s my kids. Look at my kids, Nix!” Speirs exclaimed, turning so he could look at his friend. 

“I see your damn kids, Ron, it’s hard not to. They’re grown adults.” Nixon spit out, though he was smirking in amusement regardless. Soon after the words left Nixon’s mouth, Winters and Lipton were ascending the staircase. 

“Lieutenant Lipton!” Speirs greeted when he saw the other man; Lipton could only smile, eyes crinkling at the edges. “Come here, come join the hug.” Speirs reached out, tugging on Lipton’s sleeve until he stood behind the trio a bit awkwardly, wrapping his massive arms around all three of them, cheek resting against Matt’s shoulder blade. Winters, who for one couldn’t believe his eyes, just turned to Welsh and started rambling off whatever news they had come up to give the other officers. 

“I love you guys so much, you’re the best.” Matt sniffled, already getting way too emotional just because of the sheer amount of physical affection. Dallas patted the crown of his head comfortingly, then, sighed when her friend burst into tears.  _ Jesus Christ _ . “I don’t really want to be in the army anymore, but if I have to be, you’re the only officers I want to work with. I refuse to be separated.” 

Apparently, it was time to dramatically declare feelings. Dallas had to join in, even if it was far more minimal in comparison to Matt, who had always been the more emotional of the two. “It’s true. No one’s more competent than the two of you. It’s been an honor to work with you.” That’s what broke Speirs. Matt lifted his head and nearly smashed into and broke Lipton’s nose, nudging the Captain’s cheek with his finger. 

“Are you okay, Sir?” He asked, eyes glistening as he met Speirs’ gaze. 

“Fine. Great, even. I’m just feeling a lot right now.” Speirs replied, swallowing hard as he dropped his head into the hold again. 

“It’s okay, Ron.” Lipton sounded just as exhausted as Dallas felt, though he squeezed them tighter anyway. It was almost as though they were one big happy family. It only made Matt miss home more. That was how Dallas, Matt and Captain Speirs completely missed the announcement that Germany surrendered and the war was now over, but it was definitely worth it. 

Austria was the most beautiful place that Matty had ever seen in his life. Really, it was a shame that Nazis had to sully it with their lecherous presence. He didn’t understand how someone as completely disastrous as Liebgott had ancestors that originated from the scenic and picturesque country. “Lieb, you need to relax. It’s not like that Nazi even touched Dallas, he’d just threatened her and then she stabbed him like he was a pincushion. Speirs told me how it went down, and sure, he’s one for embellishment, but. He shouldn’t have told you. Now I’m stuck with you whining about it.” Matt sighed, crossing his arms. Skinny sat in the jeep behind them, and though he was technically their commanding officer in this operation, he was already phoning it in and ignoring whatever the hell the two were arguing about. 

“I have a right to be angry! You saw what those fucks did, you were at Lansberg. I have a reason to hate them forever. What the fuck do you mean, I need to relax? Fuck off.” Who let Lieb drive? This was a terrible idea. Speirs had directed the trio to investigate the claim that a Nazi Commendant was located nearby, and he knew what he was doing giving the job to Matt and Lieb. This was intended as an act of revenge. The boys of Easy had just found out that they were to be shipped to the Pacific to join in the fight against the Japanese. Although both Matt and Dallas had enough points to leave (as did Liebgott and Roe), Liebgott was refusing to ditch the company while they were still at war, and Matt didn’t want to leave Babe to fight alone. So they were angry for more than one reason. It really wasn’t the best idea. 

They arrived at the farmhouse, surrounded by sheep and chickens. It reminded Matt of home, and his chest ached. Liebgott turned off the jeep and the three men climbed out, Matt slung his rifle over his shoulder as he followed Liebgott into the farmhouse. Joe kicked open the door to the farmhouse, startling the man inside, who was older than Matt had imagined in his head. Lieb raised his sidearm, and Matt was quick to lift his rifle, though kept his distance as his companion got closer. Skinny waited outside. 

“ _ Wer sind Sie? Was, was machen Sie hier? _ ” The man questioned, backing towards the windows behind him. Matt peered around the small home, seeing nothing concerning. 

“What?” 

“ _ Ich habe gar nichts getan. _ ” 

“Shut up.  _ Ruhe _ . Shut up!” The man continued to ramble as Liebgott bridged the distance between them, posture more than threatening. “ _ Sie sind der Kommandant? _ ” 

“ _ Gehen Sie hinaus! Welcher Kommandant? _ ” The man seemed confused, but that didn’t mean a thing. They had met plenty of Nazis who were willing to lie. 

“ _ Vom Arbeitslager _ .” 

“ _ Ich weiß von keinem Arbeitslager. Sie haben die falsche Person. _ ” 

“Don’t fucking lie to me! Come here, old man.” Liebgott didn’t seem to like that answer. He snarled, grabbing the old man by his collar, shoving him into the nearby table. The man continued to stammer and refute the claims, which only infuriated Liebgott more. He roared, shouting loud enough that his voice overpowered the other’s. “See what you did to my fucking people?” Lieb pointed his sidearm at the man's throat, nearly lifting him out of the chair with the brute force of his rage. Matt couldn’t look, incapable of the brutality that the Nazis were, glad that Liebgott was so that this could still be done. He jolted at the sound of Liebgott’s weapon firing. 

The journey back to town was silent. Skinny even fell asleep, though when they arrived he was wide awake and agitated once again. He shoved past Dallas with an underhand, “Fuck, he’s so in love with you,” before he disappeared into one of the houses, presumably to catch some more sleep before their next round of training. 

“How’d it go?” Dallas crossed her arms, arching her brow at the other two boys who approached. “And what did Skinny mean by that grumble?” Matt rolled his eyes and elbowed Liebgott, who was still a little pumped up from his kill. 

“Lieb was ranting the whole way down about what happened in Bastogne, with the Nazi. Speirs told him before sending us off. Skinny had to suffer through a lot of bickering, I don’t blame him.” 

“Jesus Christ, Matty, can you ever keep your mouth shut?” Liebgott sneered, and Matt shoved him again, though this time towards Dallas. He was  _ her _ problem now, thank you very much. 

“I’ll keep my mouth shut when you shut yours, you obnoxious fucker. Go kiss your girl, I’ve gotta give Speirs the mission report.” Matt squeezed past the couple, heading off toward HQ to go have a chat with his dad. Liebgott was still sort of surly, fists clenched at his sides as he stepped towards Dallas. There was little distance between them, but Dallas could feel the heat coming off of him. He needed a fucking chill pill. 

“You good?” 

“I would kiss you but I’m still so angry I could rip a Kraut’s fucking head off with my bare hands,” Liebgott really knew how to make shit romantic. Dallas rolled her eyes. 

“I’m still here, you know, he didn’t kill me. Didn’t give him the chance.” 

“Yeah, that’s a good thing for him, ‘cause I would’ve had to bring him back from the dead just to tear his intestines out.”  _ Jesus Christ _ . Dallas rolled her eyes again. 

“Okay, darlin’. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” 

Life as an occupying force got dull after a while. It was the same thing every day, regimented and scheduled as it was seeing as they were in the military, but since they weren’t seeing any action the boys were getting antsy. With their antsy came drinking, and with the drinking came disaster. The war was supposed to be over, yet here Dallas was on the back of a jeep, near midnight, watching Speirs beating down the door of a German brain surgeon. 

“What happened anyway?” She asked Roe, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. Normally, she would be more respectful for poor Grant, who was barely hanging onto life, but Speirs had woken her up when he’d busted into the barracks asking for medics. Roe had been awake, but he rarely slept as it was, even now. 

“A replacement was drunk, shot a German and Brit and when Grant tried to get him to put his sidearm down, he shot ‘im in the head. Haven’t found him yet. Doc said that Grant’s only chance is a brain surgeon.” The exhaustion was set deeply into Roe’s features, Dallas wished she could force him to sleep but knew that nightmares kept him up. 

Dallas sighed, grip on Grant’s hand tightening. If she focused, she could feel him return the grip, but knew that was just her brain pulling a hopeful trick on her. “Don’t worry, Roe. We’ll get a surgeon and they’ll fix him up right. The man who did this will pay.” She looked up when Speirs began to walk toward them, threatening the surgeon with his sidearm. The more cynical part of the medic wished that Speirs had killed the replacement for what he did to Grant, but knew it was for the best that he be prosecuted. There had been enough killing, enough bloodshed to last more than just her lifetime. When it mattered most, Speirs showed mercy, as they all should as they would recall these days. After all, they were all human, fallible. War was a human error, and now they must all pay the price. 


	20. Points Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bruh this is a dream reality @ ronald speirs please adopt me, bitch.

Though the end of the war was a cause for celebration, it was bittersweet. Dallas and Matt were glad to be returning home, pleased that they were even lucky enough to be doing so knowing that they were leaving fallen brothers behind in Europe, but they had grown used to life as they knew it. It would be weird, not being crammed into tight spaces with a million stinky dudes, to not hear loud, raucous laughter or the sound of artillery shelling, rifles firing, the screams of pain. 

Matt had already been having trouble sleeping after they left active duty and became an occupation force. He’d gotten used to sleeping with artillery shattering trees, moans of uncomfortable men, shaking so hard that he didn’t think he’d ever stop. The idea of sleeping in his own bed, warm and safe and comfortable was both a foreign and terrifying feeling now, and he wasn’t so sure that he could do it alone. On top of the fear of an unknown future, there was also resolving their various wartime romances. Who would move where? Would couples even stay together? Would they like one another outside of a warzone? The last question was more pressing on Dallas’ mind than anyone else’s, but the point still remained. The living’s future was wide open and undetermined. 

They only had so much time to decide it. Now that they were back in the States, there was a single train ride between Matt and Dallas and their separation, as well as upcoming distance to their significant others, or bothers in the case of Liebgott. The quintet shared a cabin in the train, though this would turn out to be a horrible choice, because a quarter of the ride consisted of Liebgott and Matt bickering at top volume, annoying everyone else in the space and probably in neighboring cabins as well. However, they were finding it hard to part ways already when the end was nigh and approaching fast.

“I was stupid to think that now that the threat of death is gone that these two would stop arguing over nothing,” Roe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and his thumb. Dallas huffed in agreement and kicked Liebgott’s shin in an attempt to shut him up. It worked; he blinked and paused mid sentence, but that could only be a temporary solution. Liebgott could always find something to fight someone about, it was only a matter of time. 

“Anyway, what is the first thing that y’all are gonna do when you get home? I’m probably going to hug my mom and never let go, but then sleep for a hundred years straight. I’ll see y’all at Speirs’ mysterious mansion in a century, apparently.” Dallas seemed confident in Speirs’ offer, which made Matt perk up in his seat. 

“Do you think he’s serious about that? I mean, I know war brings people together and all that, but I thought he wanted to kill me the first few times I saw him. To buy a house for all of us, and all the little ‘Liebgotts’ you and Lieb will be making, disgusting, by the way, seems a bit of a stretch. A dream come true. I don’t know, it feels like a fever dream.” 

Dallas glared at Liebgott at the mention of the conversation he’d had with Web months ago. It didn’t matter how long ago it was, it was still annoying and gross of him to say. Also, rude, because she wasn’t Jewish, but we digress. For now. “I don’t think he was joking. He did steal a lot of stuff during the war and it had to have been going somewhere.” She knew that Speirs had a son, but it was even far too much loot for just that. 

“I’m also not thrilled at the prospect of livin’ with Speirs, cause he does still scare the piss outta me, but a mansion’s a mansion. You don’t gotta tell me twice. Especially if you guys are there.” Okay, Babe, mellow it down with the puppy eyes and the sweet talk. God, that man is adorable. Matt leaned over to kiss his cheek just for that. 

“You’re cute. Too cute, honestly. I could just bake you in a pie and eat you, Babe.” Sleep deprivation was a crazy thing. Matt would never say that normally, but ya know, sometimes your brain fucking hated you, and now Matt wanted to throw himself out of the train window. Babe blushed in response, Roe burst out laughing and Dallas and Liebgott both gagged, then, high fived at the fact that they had done so in unison. Matt frowned, exhaustion raising the stakes of his emotions. “Alright, seeing as I’m not wanted,” It was melodramatic. It was classic Matt. He freed himself from the semi cuddle pile of Babe and Roe and promptly left the compartment. Did he have to pee? Yes. That was most of the reason why he left. However, sometimes one must be as dramatic as possible to get a point across. It was a God given gay right. 

It was a long train ride. After Matt was gone for an hour, Roe went looking for him only to find him passed out, dead asleep in the dining car with a half eaten sandwich in front of him. Roe sat beside him and let him sleep for a bit longer, but woke him up when they approached what he knew to be Liebgott’s stop. Even if they bickered like an old married couple, Liebgott would always be Matt’s big brother, and he would never forgive himself if he didn’t get to say goodbye. Even if it wasn’t goodbye forever. When they returned to the cabin, Dallas and Liebgott were saying their goodbyes, and by that we mean they were kissing quite thoroughly. Babe was staring out the window, probably wishing he was getting crushed to death beneath the train, but no one would let him do that, so. Matt cleared his throat to get the smooching duo's attention, and though Dallas looked a tad embarrassed for getting carried away, Liebgott sure as hell didn’t. 

“Are you going to say goodbye to me, you fucking idiot?” Matt asked, uncrossing his arms as a peace offering. Joe stared at him for a moment too long just to be a little shit before pulling him into a hug, patting his back. 

“We’ll see each other soon, dumbass. Don’t start crying.” Matt wasn’t crying, shut the fuck up Liebgott. With a final wave to the boys and a lingering kiss for Dallas, Liebgott stepped off the train. They watched him from the window, Matt audibly gasping when he saw him get stopped by a beautiful woman. The woman tugged Liebgott into her arms and burst into tears, and he held onto her tight. 

“That must be his baby sister, Mary.” She wasn’t much of a baby, but it wasn’t her fault that Liebgott was old as fuck. Everyone was a baby to him. Dallas’ heart ached as she watched them leave the Train Station, but it was enough to know that they wouldn’t be apart for too long. Dallas herself was the next person to get off the train, and it was a whole damn ordeal. Matt had burst into tears at the mere suggestion of being separated from his best friend. He knew that this moment was coming, and knew that eventually, they would have to go their separate ways, even if it was temporary. However, Matt had become so attached to Dallas, especially given how rough Bastogne and their distance there had been for both of them, that this was the worst possible horror. Worse, perhaps, then even being parted from Babe and Eugene. He clung onto Dallas like a lifeline, which she allowed despite the fact that she wasn’t the most comfortable with affection, patting his back rather awkwardly. It was cute, though. 

“It’s okay, Matty, we’ll see each other soon. Maybe even by the holidays!” It would be a challenge to get their lives in order by then, but that had always been the goal. To pack decades of one’s life into boxes after having it stalled for so long; each one of them had an arduous task ahead of them. Dallas pulled out of the hug, reaching down for Matt’s hand so she could give it a quick squeeze. “We’ll be together again in no time. Promise.” Matt nodded, swallowing hard in an attempt to get himself to stop fucking crying for maybe just a minute, but failed, tears cascading down his cheeks as he watched Dallas leave. The fact that he couldn’t see her out the window only made it worse, but hey, Dallas’ mom got her home perfectly safe and sound and that’s all that mattered. Eventually, Roe left, then Babe and finally Matt was alone in the cabin. 

Matt knew that other people were on the train, sparse as it was, but it was still a surprise when Speirs entered the cabin, throwing his bag onto the overhead shelf. It made sense, they were both from Massachusetts. It was only a matter of time until Luz’s loud ass came looking for companionship, too. For now, though, Speirs himself was a comforting presence as he squeezed in next to Matt’s lounging form instead of choosing to sit adjacent to him. Now, Matt was a bit cramped, his knees bunched up as he lay on his side, head resting on Speirs’ shoulder, the other man’s fingers finding their way into his hair. “Is what you offered before true, Sir? Is there really a mansion out in West Virginia?” It didn’t seem too likely, the state in general was poor, but if anyone could make the impossible possible, it was Ronald fucking Speirs. 

“Do I look like the type of person to make jokes?” That was a fair point. Matt didn’t think he ever saw Speirs make a single joke about anything, ever. 

“No, Sir. I look forward to it. We’re gonna be one big happy family.” Matt didn’t need to look up to know that Speirs was now in his feels, his voice betrayed the emotions. 

“We always have been, Matty.” 

It was called Thornburg House, apparently, and the family who owned it before Speirs had managed to get his grubby hands on it had sold it to the township before the war so they could move to greener pastures. Speirs and Lipton had moved in a few days after they’d returned home, the two working to fix up any visible and problematic issues around the house before the kiddos (who were grown adults) were to come home in mid-December. Matt and Liebgott met up to celebrate Hanukkah the first week of December, and though there was much bickering, it reminded Matt so intensely of being back in Europe with all the guys, he couldn’t say that he minded. A few weeks later, everyone was all set up in the Thornburg House, just in time for Christmas. Though there had been a little squabbling and bickering, the setup was akin to the one they had in the Army, so it was familiar, safe, and most of all, comfortable, even more so than military life because they could be more open with themselves and their relationships without fear of reprimand, court marshal, or worse. 

It was Christmas. Babe, much akin to an overexcited puppy, had woken both Matt and Roe up from their much needed slumber by jumping on the bed and crawling all over them. It would be annoying as shit if it weren’t just so damn cute. They both worked odd hours; Matt, as a volunteer fireman, and Eugene as a nurse at the local hospital, so the fact that they were even asleep was a fucking miracle, but it was all forgiven once they got into the living room and Babe’s entire face lit up with excitement at the display of presents. Really, how could anyone be mad at Babe Heffron, the guy was like a straight up puppy. Soon enough, the rest of the household poured into the living room, each in their ridiculous holiday sweaters that Matt had painstakingly sewn in his free time. It had been arduous, but to see just how irritated Liebgott and Speirs were was reward enough, and honestly, nothing was more adorable than Babe wearing a Christmas Sweater with a giant damn puppy face on it. 

Joe and Matt had already celebrated their own holiday, so though they would be present and participating, while the gifts were being opened and general Christmas shenanigans were going down, they stood in the doorway watching the chaos as they sipped on mugs of coffee and hot chocolate, respectively. Lipton and Speirs had commandeered the loveseat, Lipton curled up and whole ass asleep, half on top of Speirs, probably exhausted from staying up all night making sure everything was set up perfectly and making last minute adjustments. Speirs held the coveted ‘Dad wrapping paper’ trash bag in his hand, catching all the refuse that went flying his way. Dallas and Eugene sat on the floor next to the tree, sliding presents towards anyone who wasn’t in the nearby vicinity and doing the best they could to keep Babe’s hyperactive self to a bare minimum, with little success. 

The Speirs-Lipton-Dixon-Meir-Roe-Heffron-Liebgott household didn’t have everything, but it was a perfect home for a group of soldiers who had spent far too long suffering at war and deserved to return home and make something of themselves, to find their own little piece of happiness in as remote a corner of the world as they could, given that Dallas would go insane if she were left alone with the idiots for too long. It wasn’t the most thrilling life, but it was theirs, and it was whole heartedly happy. 

  
  
  


THE END 


	21. Bonus: Foy Tea Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spill the tea, sis.

“So, go ahead. Tell me what you’ve been up to, I haven’t seen you in two months!” Matt lay sprawled out on the pew, head pillowed against his arm. It didn’t matter than anyone could overhear their conversation, they would speak as loudly, as long and as much as they wanted to, and if anyone interrupted them, they would be killed on sight. That’s just how it had to be when the duo had spent so much time apart. 

“Okay, so in general it was the worst experience of my entire life. Worse than working beneath Sobel. There were no supplies, so we could barely help the wounded that were brought in, we were surrounded by the Germans, just like you guys so there was a constant threat to our wellbeing. On top of that, I had to see your boyfriend come in every other day looking worse and worse, like he was a fucking ghost, and he wouldn’t talk to me about it. Liebgott annoyed me the entire time, though one morning he was off so I gave him chocolate. Toye got an attitude about Liebgott being near me so he called you a dime store harlot and I basically broke things off with him. A Nazi came into the Aid Station and tried to kill me but I stabbed him to death, and Speirs saw and seemed a little proud so that was nice. Oh, and Toye apologized to me when he came in with his leg blown off, and I comforted Malarkey about that whole situation but other than that, not much.” 

Matt blinked once, twice, thrice, silently. “Excuse me, what happened? That’s so much shit you just dumped on me. I thought I was bad!  _ Jesus Christ _ . You killed someone? Speirs won’t tattle on you though, will he?” 

“Why would he? He was actually happy about it, he patted my shoulder and everything.” Dallas smiled to herself at the memory, tucking her chin into her elbow. “What about you?” 

“Well,” Matt sighed, rubbing at his eyes in pure exhaustion, “We didn’t have enough supplies either, of course. Dike kept disappearing whenever we needed him. I actually go used to sleeping with shelling going off overhead, which isn’t the most comforting thing. Eugene kept distancing himself from me so I think he hates me, but that’s fine. Lipton told me about his family and it almost made me cry, it’s so upsetting. I helped Gene pack up Bill and Joe when their legs got blown off, and Jackson was pretty fucking cool when he got a jeep for us, by the way, the kid held the driver at gun point. I think I might be in love with Babe Heffron, but that’s irrelevant. Oh! Speirs ran through Foy by himself to hook up with Item and ran right back on through the German lines. It was fucking insane.” 

Now it was Dallas’ turn to stare at Matt incredulously. “First off, you need to sort that shit with Babe out ASAP because I can already tell that this will drag on if you don’t.” It would. It really would. “Second of all, the last part absolutely does not surprise me. Sounds like Ronald fuckin’ Speirs to me. He’s insane. I sorta love him.” 

“Me too. He heals each and every one of my Daddy issues.” 

“Matt, too far.” 

“What? It’s true!” 


	22. Bonus: Truth or Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the possessive behavior of liebgott....chill my guy lmao

“Truth or Dare? Really? This is what we’re going to play?” Matt questioned, his nose scrunched in absolute displeasure. The game reminded the technician of a time much despised, on the few occasions that he went to high school parties. They were never fun, and in fact, most often ended in complete embarrassment and shame for him. So, no, Matt did not particularly like this idea. 

There was a backstory to this plan. Roe and Dallas had been plotting behind Matt’s (and poor Babe’s too, Jesus, the kid has no clue what’s going on. At all. Ever. Rest in pieces.) back to try and set the trio up for good and force everyone involved to admit their feelings. Which would be hard, because everyone in Easy was a stubborn hardass. It would kill three birds with one stone, if everyone intended were to show up. Matt could make some excuse for Dallas to kiss Liebgott, Dallas and Roe would force Babe and Matt to kiss, and, as the original intent, they could perfectly overhear the officers in the next room and could determine what was going on with Nixon. “Yeah. It’s a good idea, and it’s not like you’ve got anything better, Matty, so sit down and take a shot or something.” 

Matt did that. Three shots in and he was just past the line of tipsy, a warmness settled into the pit of his stomach. Good. Now he wouldn’t be so fearful at the prospect of this stupid ploy. Soon enough, seven people sat in a circle around an empty beer bottle (courtesy of Liebgott, ‘cause beer is disgusting). Dallas sat between Matt and Malarkey, Roe being on the other side of Matt, while Babe, Liebgott and Luz sat across from them. Dallas and Roe were practically foaming at the mouth at the prospect of their plans, while Matt was trying to stop his hands from shaking and wishing away the permanent blush on his cheeks. 

Dallas was the first to spin and it landed on Luz, which was certainly not the optimal situation, but it couldn’t all be about The Plan. “Georgie, Truth or Dare?” She asked, arching a challenging brow to the radio operator. 

“Dare, of course!” Luz scoffed at the mere thought that he may choose any option other than Dare, which was clearly the most brave and bold option of them all, all two of them. 

“I dare you...to lick Liebgott’s armpit.” That’s disgusting. We’re disgusted, and yet, Luz would do it. No one could believe their eyes. Liebgott squirmed and tried to shove George off of him, but the smaller man could be really stubborn when he put his mind to it. Unfortunately for Lieb, he wasn’t wearing his jacket, so his armpit was far more accessible than usual, and Luz did, in fact, give it a nice good lick. God bless whoever, if anyone, had to kiss him after that. 

Next was Luz’s turn to spin, and it landed on Roe, which meant that this was about to be either hilarious or very uncomfortable. Luz grinned wolfishly, resting his chin on both of his fists, the epitome of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Boy did his resting innocent face really mislead people. “Mister Roe, truth or dare?” 

“Truth,” Was Roe’s immediate reply, which was a good judgement, really, since it was clear that Luz was primed for armpit licking payback. 

“Well, then, Eugene Roe, are you a virgin? Inquiring minds are dying to know.” There was no single thing more hammy than George Luz, and that was indisputable fact. 

Roe was quick to reply despite how red hot his cheeks got in embarrassment. “No,” He leaned forward to spin the bottle, thoroughly pleased with the results to see it landed on Babe. “Edward, Truth or Dare?” 

“Dare,” Babe had played this game many times in his life, and never ONCE had he ever chosen truth. He was very proud of that fact, thank you very much. Dallas leaned over Matt, who had started to giggle for no one’s sure what reason, but he was, and glared at Roe as if in challenge. Roe glared right on back, but it seemed that Dallas was victorious because Roe finally spoke after too long an uncomfortable silence featuring Matt’s giggles. 

“Heffron, I dare you to kiss my boyfriend.” A hush silence fell over the room, absolutely disbelieving that Eugene Roe of all people dared something like that. Surely a pious man of virtue would never? Well, apparently he would, and now Babe and Matt were left to deal with the consequences. Though Babe wasn't timid, this was definitely an awkward thing to approach, as well as difficult to reconcile the truth in his feelings for both the man daring him and the man he was dared to kiss. He swallowed hard as Dallas and Roe watched in eager anticipation, though both knew the truth of the matter was that this was just a means to an end. Babe wasn’t sure what to do, but he wasn’t the type of person to back down from a dare. If Bill were here he would call Babe a coward just for taking so damn long to do the stupid dare. 

Finally, Babe crawled across the carpet on his hands and knees, and it was an image that only made Matt’s giggle fit start up tenfold. That didn’t help, but it was very cute, so by the time Babe was in Matt’s space, he had the biggest grin on his face. “Hey, Matty.” 

“Hey, Babe.” Babe leaned in, intending to press a kiss to Matt’s cheek, but at the last minute, because Matt believed Babe was leaning in to actually kiss him, the technician turned so that their lips met. Matt lifted his hands to Babe’s collar, fingers tightening around the fabric so that he could keep him against him for longer than was probably proper. When Babe pulled away, he was splendidly flushed and stammering while Roe grinned in victory, reaching his hand over to ruffle Matt’s hair. Babe appeared to forget that it was his turn to spin the bottle, but after Luz nudged him, he spun the bottle, lips pursing when it landed on Liebgott. 

“Lieb, truth or dare?” 

There was no way in hell Liebgott would allow himself to be dared into kissing someone who he had obvious feelings for, no fucking way. “Truth.” 

Babe didn’t have any pressing questions, at least not for Liebgott. His brain was short firing so it was sorta hard to think of any genius truths that burned at the back of the collective mind of Easy Company. “Do you have any siblings?” 

Liebgott scoffed, “Jesus, what a softball, Heff. Yes, I have a bunch and my favorite is my little sister.” He reached for the bottle and spun, smirking when it landed on Matt. Just as he’d wanted, to cause as much chaos as possible. “Truth or Dare, Matty?” 

“Truth, ‘cause I really don’t want to lick your armpit.” Matt cackled like that was the most hilarious thing he’d ever said, which it definitely wasn’t but allow the drunk man his own peace, okay? 

“Fuck you. Okay, truth. Who do you like more, Babe or Roe?” Liebgott knew what he was doing, they had just been fighting about this shit like, four days ago. Lucky for him, someone was drunk, so he didn’t really give enough of a shit to pick a fight right now. 

“Neither, oh, or both! I mean how can you have me pick between two different iterations of perfection, Lieb? Ridiculous question. Now,” Matt leaned on his knees to spin the bottle, eyeing Malarkey when it landed on him. “Mal, Truth or Dare?” 

Malarkey was still reeling from what just happened, so he instinctively replied. “Dare.” It was a mistake. The mayhem caused by this would rock generations. 

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in the room. Note that I didn’t say girl, because obviously Dallas would smoke all you bitches.” Who were these imagined bitches Matt was seeing? We don’t know, and honestly, we don’t dare to try and ask. It would be suicidal to. Now Malarkey was confused, but he’d already known his answer before Matt so kindly specified: he was half cocked to kiss Dallas anyway, so he followed through and pressed the softest of kisses to the medic’s lips, hesitant and warm. It only lasted a second or two, but it was enough to set Liebgott the FUCK off. The boy was fuming, metaphorical steam pouring from his ears. 

“Hey, Mal, would ya mind getting the fuck off my girl?” Who’s girl, exactly, Liebgott? Pardon? Dallas was her own woman first and foremost, thank you very much, but also, it was hard to complain. Lieb’s so cute when he’s mad. Liebgott full bodied shoved Malarkey to the side before taking Dallas’ face in his hands , pulling her against his chest. It surely wasn’t the most romantic kiss in the world, they weren’t Buttercup and the Dread Pirate Roberts, but it was enough to have what had been lingering and growing in Dallas’ chest, a warmth and heat she’d never felt before, blossom into full bloom. She kissed Liebgott like it was the first, last and only kiss she’d ever want. 

The room was dead silent until Matt began to clap enthusiastically, whooping and hollering to see his friend and big brother get their shit together. “Finally!” 


	23. Bonus: A Tree Fell in Lansberg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dick winters really said: fuck it, that guy's a tree now.

Matt was missing. He’d been missing since he’d run off after hearing Sink’s orders regarding the prisoners of the camp, disappeared into the forest surrounding Lansberg. Major Winters approached Dallas, knowing full well that this was Matt’s best friend and no one would know him better, hoping that she would be able to ascertain the technician’s whereabouts. “Dixon, have you seen Meir?” 

“I’m sorry, Sir, I think he went to go find his roots.” Dallas wasn’t laughing, this wasn’t a joke. Dick arched an eyebrow as if to ask Dallas to elaborate. Dallas only sighed, gesturing for her commanding officer to follow as she started off into the direction of the woods. Dick glanced around, making certain that he wasn’t needed before heading off. 

A couple of minutes into the journey and Dallas stopped, pointing at one specific tree. It was small, but deeply rooted into the earth. The tree was also wearing Matt’s OD jacket, pins and chevrons included. “What is this, Dallas? Are you saying that he ran away?” 

“No, Sir. Matty is that tree. I think the stress just caused a spontaneous change in him. I tried everything, Roe’s tried a whole bunch of cajun healer shit, but he’s still a tree.” 

Of course he was. Matt Meir was a fucking tree. This could only happen to someone in Easy Company. Dick sighed, crossed his arms, and walked away. 


	24. Bonus: Fifty First Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> can speirs and lip PLEASE stop necking in alleyways? you're embarrassing us dads!

“One of the ground rules was no bickering. If you won’t shut up, I will be forced to leave. Behave, Joe.” Dallas used as stern a tone of voice as she could, brow arched in challenge to her boyfriend. 

Liebgott sighed, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, but Matt started it.” He crossed his arms and reclined back in his chair, glaring at Matt from across the table. Matt glared back, though settled a little when he noticed Babe giving him puppy eyes. No one could resist Babe Heffron’s big ol’ browns, and that was just a fact of life. Now that they had been in Barboursville for long enough, the couples (+1) thought that a group date might be a great plan to brighten up date nights. After all, it wasn’t like they could just go out and kill Nazis or watch a European town on fire anymore. 

There were three major ground rules that had been set up beforehand. One, no one was to bicker. This mostly applied to Matt and Lieb, but Roe and Dallas would occasionally get into fights if they were tired enough. Two, no one was allowed to makeout at the dinner table. It was rude in general, mostly to the general populous of the restaurant, but it wasn’t fun to watch your friends kiss, they had better entertainment nowadays. Three, no one was allowed to order from the children’s menu. This was for Babe and Liebgott, who had the tastes of unrefined Mama’s boys. Although the both of them had grown up poor and would eat literally whatever they could get their hands on, their actual tastes had subverted into that of a child who was very picky. It was cute, most of the time, but not in a fancy restaurant that they had all got dolled up for. 

Beneath the table, Liebgott reached for Dallas’ hand, squeezing it in his own while he offered her a warm smile. It was a sort of apology, and all was forgiven. For now. Unless the boys started to bicker again. Abruptly, Matt excused himself from the table after telling Roe what he’d wanted to order for him, heading straight to the toilets. The pressure of an official date was making him nervous, more nervous than he had been jumping out of a perfectly good airplane. None of them had really been on a date after they’d gotten back from the war, as they hadn’t had the time, but it wasn’t like they’d had the ability to when they were in Europe, either. In a way, this date could make or break their relationships, and the fear of ruining what he had with Gene and Babe or somehow fucking up Lieb and Dallas made bile rise in his throat. He sat on the floor of the bathroom for a good couple of minutes, just to make sure that he wasn’t going to get sick before he peed as he’d initially intended to. Then, he decided he would go outside and have a smoke, just to calm his wrecked nerves. It was also in the hopes that the drinks would get to the table before he’d returned and he could chug his drink and fucking relax instead of overthinking every little thing or accidentally restarting the bickering with Lieb as a way to avoid his feelings.

Matt retreated to the side of the building, leaning against the brick wall and inhaling the noxious gas and the sweet sweet nicotine which was like a glass of cool water tossed over his anxiety. He shivered in relief, though jolted when he’d heard shuffling nearby. Shuffling, giggling and a small moan that sounded suspiciously like ‘Ron!’. Matt’s eyes widened and he backed away slowly, crushing his cigarette beneath his boot before running inside at top speed, nearly toppling a poor server and his very heavy looking tray over. 

“Jesus, Matty, what’s the problem? Ya look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Babe asked as Matt sat back down in his seat, reaching for his very fruity looking drink and downing it in one go, like it was a damn shot and not a mixed drink. The whole table watched with wide eyes. 

“We have to leave, right now, immediately.” 

“We aren’t going to leave, Matt, we just ordered the food a coupla minutes ago. Just tell us what’s going on.” Liebgott seemed agitated, but he was probably just hangry. The guy had to eat way more than it looked. 

“Did Speirs and Lipton go on a date tonight? Did they say where they were going?” Matt questioned, still shaking from both the anxiety and now the sheer horror of hearing their pseudo dads up to something less than innocent. 

“They didn’t say where they were going but they did say they were going out. Why?” Dallas asked, brows furrowed in concern for her friend, who seemed pretty shaken up. 

“I went out for a smoke, ‘cause I’m nervous, ya know, and I was just standing there, smoking, and I heard giggling and a moan and I think I heard the name ‘Ron’ but I couldn’t be sure. I got outta there as soon as I heard it.” Matt stared blankly ahead, unblinking, haunted by the sound as it replayed over and over again. 

“I don’t think those two would be caught dead necking, Matthew, I’m sure it wasn’t them.” Roe tried to assert, reaching for Matt’s hand so he could squeeze it comfortingly in his own. Oh, how wrong he was. Not a second later after he said that did Speirs and Lipton step through the door, looking ruffled, thrilled and absolutely sloshed. The group could only stare at their former commanding officers. Speirs spotted them, swaying a bit on his way over. He fully leaned on the table, elbows and all, looking around at his kids like they had actually come from his loins, pride evident in his gaze. 

“We didn’t know you would be here! Are all of you on a double date? Well, plus one. That’s really cute.” Speirs really was a cute drunk, but god, now Matt wanted to puke again, the urge to blurt what he’d heard as a means to avoid any future awkwardness on the tip of his tongue. 

“Ron, let’s go back to our table. Leave the kids alone for their date. C’mon.” Lipton grabbed Speirs by the elbow and with a warm smile, left the five alone at their table again, wondering what the fuck was happening. 

“I knew it! I knew I couldn’t be imagining it!” Matt whispered urgently, hitting his forehead with his palm. God, he didn’t think he could look at them the same way, not knowing that they didn’t know that he had heard them. He felt so guilty! 

“Don’t worry about it, Matty, just don’t think about it and you’ll be fine. Anyway, me and the boys were just talking about the group vacation. We still haven’t decided where we want to go.” Dallas supplied, trying to swerve the conversation in any other direction. 

“I still think we should go to Austria,” Everyone started at Joe like he had a second head. “What?” 

“Lieb, we were just in Austria. Why would you want to go back? At least give them a chance to rebuild their lives before they have Americans invading their space again.” Roe’s expression was pinched, disappointed in Lieb for such an answer. That wouldn’t be romantic at all! “I will suggest Paris, ‘cause I’ve heard it’s really beautiful and since we weren’t officers we didn’t get leave to go there.” 

“Yes, but we spent plenty of time in France. Normandy. Carentan. God, being a soldier ruined everything.” Babe stuffed his head in his hands, and Matt could only frown and rub his back. The poor baby. He had a point though, most of Europe was a no go because of how many places they’d been in their travels, and what those places meant to them and the reminders there. They didn’t need worse nightmares. 

“How about we don’t go to Europe at all, we’ve seen enough of it.” Matt suggested, looking to Dallas, knowing that if anyone else was sane it was her. “Anyone have any ideas outside of Europe?” 

“How about somewhere nice and warm, but not too hot, with a beach?” That did sound nice. This was why Matt trusted Dallas to have the good ideas! 

“Well, since it’s still winter around New England, I wouldn’t suggest we go to Cape Cod or anything. Maybe somewhere in California? Webster’s out there, we could visit him.” Liebgott huffed at the idea until Matt sent a glare his way as a means of threat. 

“That does sound nice. I could use a little sun.” Roe was from Louisiana, so being stuck in West Virginia probably wasn’t ideal for him. He was used to sun, heat and the...delicacies of the swamp. Matt felt a little guilty that he had somehow lured the man away from his home. This could be a nice change of scenery for him. 

“So, California?” Dallas repeated, lifting her glass for a toast. Matt grinned and lifted his empty glass just for the aesthetic, the other boys following suit as they clinked their glasses together. “To California!” 


End file.
